e breeze, As youth's wild heart grown weary of Desire and its dream of love.
I held your arm and, for awhile, We walked along the balmy aisle Of flowers that, like velvet, dips Unto the lake which lilies tile Like stars; and hyacinths, like strips Of heaven: and beside a fall, That, down a ferned and mossy wall, Fell in the lake,--deep, woodbine-wound, A latticed summer-house we found; A green kiosk,--through which the sound Of waters and of breezes swayed, And honeysuckle bugles played Soft serenades of perfume sweet,-- Around which ran a rustic seat. And seated in that haunted nook,-- I know not how it was,--a word, A touch, perhaps, a sigh, a look, Was father to the kiss I took;
Great things grow out of small I've heard. And then it was I took between My hands your face, loved Geraldine, And gazed into your eyes, and told The story ever new though old. You did not look away, but met My eyes with eyes whose lids were wet With tears of truth; and you did lean Your cheek to mine, sweet Geraldine
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