ABSTRACT
Lord Francis Hervey. From The Taking of Alba aiid Other Poems and Translations, 1873. We sat, my true love sat and I, Beneath the tall oak tree; The wind above piped mournfully, My whole soul swooned with agony, – O pain! does he love me? His head upon my neck he laid: His keen eyes I could see – Twin stars that flashed amid the shade; His warm breath on my forehead played – O heaven! does he love me? His lips touched mine, O joy, O bliss! The wind sang in the tree; I knew his long-drawn rapturous kiss, I felt his wild, wild, burning kiss; – O joy! he loveth me.
