I
How fresh the Dartles little waves that day! A
steely silver, underlined with blue,
And flashing where the round clouds, blown away, Let drop the
yellow sunshine to gleam through
And tip the edges of the waves with shifts And spots of whitest
fire, hard like gems
Cut from the midnight moon they were, and sharp As
wind through leafless stems.
The Lady Eunice walked between the drifts
Of blooming cherry-trees, and watched the rifts
Of clouds drawn through the rivers azure warp.
II
Her little feet tapped softly down the path. Her
soul was listless; even the morning breeze
Fluttering the trees and strewing a light swath Of fallen petals
on the grass, could please
Her not at all. She brushed a hair aside With a
swift move, and a half-angry frown.
She stopped to pull a daffodil or two, And
held them to her gown
To test the colours; put them at her side,
Then at her breast, then loosened them and tried
Some new arrangement, but it would not do.
III
A lady in a Manor-house, alone, Whose husband
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