And hanging branches crowned her head with bays.
Oft have I seen her walk
Through flower-decked fields unto the oaken pass,
Where lay the slumbery flock,
Swoln with much eating of the tender grass.
Oft have I seen her stand
By wandering brooks o'er which the willows met;
Or where the meadow-land
Balmed the soft air with dew-mist drapery wet.
Much patting of the wind