27
Morns like these-we parted-
Noons like these-she rose-
Fluttering first-then firmer
To her fair repose.
Never did she lisp it-
It was not for me-
She-was mute from transport-
I-from agony-
Till-the evening nearing
One the curtains drew-
Quick! A Sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!
