Is felt, there's growing sympathy of tastes,
There's ripened friendship, there's confirmed esteem:—Much
head these make against the new-comer!
The startling apparition, the strange youth—
Whom one half-hour's conversing with, or, say,
Mere gazing at, shall change (beyond all change
This Ovid ever sang about) your soul
... Her soul, that is,—the sister's soul! With her
'T was winter yesterday; now, all is warmth,
The green leaf 's springing and the turtle's voice,