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��LORD TENNYSON

jog The Millers Daughter

[T is the miller's daughter,

And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel

That trembles in her ear: For hid in ringlets day and night, Pd touch her neck so warm and white.

And I would be the girdle

About her dainty dainty waist,

And her heart would beat against me, In sorrow and in rest:

And I should know if it beat right,

I'd clasp it round so close and tight.

And I would be the necklace, And all day long to fall and rise

Upon her balmy bosom,

With her laughter or her sighs:

And I would lie so light, so light,

I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.

jio Song of the Lotos-Eaters

THERE is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass, Music that genther on the spirit lies, Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes,

Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And thro' the moss the ivies creep,

4S

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