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And oh how happy wilt thou be,
If thou, while thus with vows deceiving, Hast half the bliss that flows to me,
While hearing thee, and while believing.
I V Y-SEAT.
Tamen ego illa moveor exedra.......a sedeque ipsa desidera ri
illam vocem puto. CICERO, Lib. v. de Finibus. Proem.
be the secret spell That bids my heart so fondly swell
Whene'er I pass that ivy-seat! While lingers my reverted eye About those beeches, wherefore fly The life-drops through my frame with quickening
Is not that seat like others made,
Like others fenced with ivy round?
Pour through their branches an unusual sound?
Yes....Other seats like that I've seen
Their crooked arms with ivy bound;
Pours through their branches no unusual sound.
Then wherefore, when I pass that seat,
Why is my hand upon my heart?
Why linger here, unwilling to depart?
There is a maid, a gentle maid,
Who loves that seat with ivy bound:
With tangled wreaths, and stems that cur) around.
And once, it was a pleasant day,
And thousand blossoms bloomed the while
I rendered up, most happy in her smile.
Then, as the gentle maid stood near
The blackbird sung; perched on a spray
On every note that sounded in his lay.
And that sweet warbling, in her face
That warbling moulded every look ;
And all her frame wit sweet emotion shook.
Then in each feature I could see
The silent joy that o'er her stole.
That might disturb the quiet of lier soul.
And when the bird had sung his lay,
And as he flew he chattered shrill;
As though the bird sat there and warbled still.
Smiling, her rosy lips she stirred,
Could I perceive, or whispered speech ;
And then her eyes she turned from yon tall beech.
And oh, the look! when from that tree
That look may never pass away ;
Subject and food for many a future day.
Therefore though many a silent nook
In dingle or sequestered grove ;
Oh, far beyond them all, that seat I love.
When there I sit, some secret power
I cannot tear myself away;
Fixes me down, and holds me with its sway.