That Arthur would be lingering in the bower
Which oft with summer garlands I had drest;
Where blamelessly I spent full many an hour
Ere yet I felt or love's or sin's remorseless power.
No joyful step to welcome me was there;
For slumber had her transient blessing sent
To him I loved—the still and balmy air,
The blue and quiet sky, repose had lent,
Deep as her own—above that form I bent,
The rich and clustering curls I gently raised,