LORD TENNYSON

All day within the dreamy house,

The doors upon their hinges creak'd; The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd, Or from the crevice peer'd about. Old faces glimmered thro* the doors, Old footsteps trod the upper floors, Old voices call'd her from without.

She only said, ' My life is dreary,

He cometh not/ she said; She said, ' I am aweary, aweary,' I would that I were dead ! '

The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,

The slow clock ticking, and the sound Which to the wooing wind aloof

The poplar made, did all confound Her sense; but most she loathed the hour When the thick-moted sunbeam lay Athwart the chambers, and the day Was sloping toward his western bower. Then, said she, * I am very dreary,

He will not come,' she said;

She wept, * I am aweary, aweary,

O God, that I were dead ! '

��700. The Lady of Shahtt

PART I

tf either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And thro* the field the road runs by To many-tower'd Camelot ;

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