“I could not choose but wake it now;
  For do but turn aside your face,
A house on yonder hilly brow
        Your eyes may trace.

“The chestnut shelters it; ah me,
  That I should have so faint a heart! 
But yester-eve, as by the sea
        I sat apart,

“I heard a name, I saw a hand
  Of passing stranger point that way—­
And will he meet her on the strand,
        When late we stray?

“For she is come, for she is there,
  I heard it in the dusk, and heard
Admiring words, that named her fair,
        But little stirred

“By beauty of the wood and wave,
  And weary of an old man’s sway;
For it was sweeter to enslave
        Than to obey.”

—­The voice of one that near us stood,
  The rustle of a silken fold,
A scent of eastern sandal wood,
        A gleam of gold!

A lady!  In the narrow space
  Between the husband and the wife,
But nearest him—­she showed a face
        With dangers rife;

A subtle smile that dimpling fled,
  As night-black lashes rose and fell: 
I looked, and to myself I said,
        “The letter L.”

He, too, looked up, and with arrest
  Of breath and motion held his gaze,
Nor cared to hide within his breast
        His deep amaze;

Nor spoke till on her near advance
  His dark cheek flushed a ruddier hue;
And with his change of countenance
        Hers altered too.

“Lenore!” his voice was like the cry
  Of one entreating; and he said
But that—­then paused with such a sigh
        As mourns the dead.

And seated near, with no demur
  Of bashful doubt she silence broke,
Though I alone could answer her
        When first she spoke.

She looked:  her eyes were beauty’s own;
  She shed their sweetness into his;
Nor spared the married wife one moan
        That bitterest is.

She spoke, and lo, her loveliness
  Methought she damaged with her tongue;
And every sentence made it less,
        All falsely rung.

The rallying voice, the light demand,
  Half flippant, half unsatisfied;
The vanity sincere and bland—­
        The answers wide.

And now her talk was of the East,
  And next her talk was of the sea;
“And has the love for it increased
        You shared with me?”

He answered not, but grave and still
  With earnest eyes her face perused,
And locked his lips with steady will,
        As one that mused—­

That mused and wondered.  Why his gaze
  Should dwell on her, methought, was plain;
But reason that should wonder raise
        I sought in vain.

And near and near the children drew,
  Attracted by her rich array,
And gems that trembling into view
        Like raindrops lay.

He spoke:  the wife her baby took
  And pressed the little face to hers;
What pain soe’er her bosom shook,
        What jealous stirs