In heart be but love's easy consequence,
Do I love? If to marry mean—let go
All I now live for, should my marriage be?"
The other never once has ceased to gaze
On the great elm-tree in the open, posed
Placidly full in front, smooth bole, broad branch,
And leafage, one green plenitude of May.
The gathered thought runs into speech at last.
"O you exceeding beauty, bosomful
Of lights and shades, murmurs and silences,