Her worshiper merely; who chose to be
Silent, seeing that love alone
Was his only badge of nobility,
Set in his heart's escutcheon.
How long ago does the springtime look,
When we wandered away to the hills! the hills,—
Like the land in the tale in the Fairy-book,—
Gold with the gold of the daffodils,
And gemmed with the crocus by bank and brook!
When I gathered a branch from a hawthorn tree,