A LEGEND OF BRITTANY. PART FIRST. I. FAIR as a summer dream was Margaret, Such dream as in a poet's soul might start, Musing of old loves while the moon doth set: Her hair was not more sunny than her heart, Though like a natural golden coronet It circled her dear head with careless art, Mocking the sunshine, that would fain have lent To its frank grace a richer ornament. II. His loved-one's eyes could poet ever speak, III. She dwelt forever in a region bright, Peopled with living fancies of her own, Her spirit wandered by itself, and won IV. The heart grows richer that its lot is poor, And makes the cot a palace with his eyes; And grew in gentleness and patience wise, For she was but a simple herdsman's child, A lily chance-sown in the rugged wild. V. There was no beauty of the wood or field But she its fragrant bosom-secret knew, Nor any but to her would freely yield Some grace that in her soul took root and grew: Nature to her glowed ever new-revealed, All rosy-fresh with innocent morning dew, And looked into her heart with dim, sweet eyes That left it full of sylvan memories. VI. O, what a face was hers to brighten light, And part of memory's best contentment grow! Of white and gracious thoughts the chosen home! VII. None looked upon her but he straightway thought Of all the greenest depths of country cheer, And into each one's heart was freshly brought What was to him the sweetest time of year, So was her every look and motion fraught With out-of-door delights and forest lere ; Not the first violet on a woodland lea Seemed a more visible gift of spring than she. VIII. Is love learned only out of poets' books? Is there not somewhat in the dropping flood, And in the nunneries of silent nooks, And in the murmured longing of the wood, That could make Margaret dream of lovelorn looks, Shed in the bosom of an eglatere ? IX. Full many a sweet forewarning hath the mind, Its virgin zone, and all its deeps inspire,— Low stirrings in the leaves, before the wind Wakes all the green strings of the forest lyre, Faint heatings in the calyx, ere the rose |