‘I was a boy; and she was fair
As you are when you smile,
And her voice came forth like the summer air,
With a tone that did beguile,
And her two blue eyes refreshing were
As two trees on an Indian isle.’
Etonian.
I love fresh feelings—it is so unlike
This olden world to meet them; and they come
Upon my heart like music so, or like
Some passage that is new in poetry.
I walked one eve by moonlight. I had seen
Some fourteen summers, and my cyphering
Was all the thought I had; and as the world
Had come to me so pleasantly, I took
A wayward temper for my manual,
And kept it to the letter. It was now
A mellow eve of summer, and a girl,
Who laughed forever like the birds and had
Long eyelashes and very dangerous eyes,
Was leaning on my arm. I did not know
I was in love; but it seemed natural
To think of all she said, and she’d a way
Of coming to one’s dreams; and then her name
Was always in the lesson like a word,
And half the time I studied it. This eve
We had been very gay, and I had watched
The deep, half shaded dimple in her cheek,
Till I forgot to answer; and as she
Of too much mirth grew serious, I began
To act the lover playfully. My cap
Was carelessly thrown back, and on my cheek
I shook some dew for tears, and as she curled
Her lip in mimic scorn, I knelt to her,
And begged for her sweet favor, touchingly.
She answered coldly first, and then relented,
As wiser maids have done; but with a look
Of something so like earnest, that I did
Her hand some violence; and then she blushed
And said I must not tell, but ladies’ lips,
By some, were counted prettier.
The moon
Shone just as soberly, and I went home
And kept the secret; but I do not know
That she would let me touch the seal again.