Her heart had shuddered since the last, hot wrench
Of parting overnight. Though still her mouth
Felt the mute impress of love's sacred seal;
Though still through all her senses seemed to steal
The heavy fume of wound-wort that had hung
All night about the hedgerows--parched with drouth;
Though the first notes the missel-cock had sung,
Ere darkness fled, resounded in her ears;
Yet no hot tempest of tumultuous woe
Shook her young body. As night-fallen snow