 | Lucile |  |
VII.
He turn'd to the window. A cloud pass'd the sun.
The breeze lifted itself up the leaves, one by one.
Just then Lucile enter'd the room, undiscern'd
By Lord Alfred, whose face to the window was turn'd,
In a strange reverie.
The breeze lifted itself up the leaves, one by one.
Just then Lucile enter'd the room, undiscern'd
By Lord Alfred, whose face to the window was turn'd,
In a strange reverie.
The time was, when Lucile,
In beholding that man, could not help but reveal
The rapture, the fear, which wrench'd out every nerve
In the heart of the girl from the woman's reserve.
And now—she gazed at him, calm, smiling,—perchance
Indifferent.
In beholding that man, could not help but reveal
The rapture, the fear, which wrench'd out every nerve
In the heart of the girl from the woman's reserve.
And now—she gazed at him, calm, smiling,—perchance
Indifferent.
| Lucile | |