On Windermere

I

Droop , droop, soft little eyelids!
Droop over eyes of weird wild blue!
Under the fringe of those tremulous shy lids
Glances of love and of fun peep through.

II

Sing, sing, sweetest of maidens!
Carol away with thy white little throat!
Echo awakes to the exquisite cadence,
Here on the magical mere afloat.

III

Dream, dream, heart of my own love!
Sweet is the wind from the odorous south —
Sweet is the island we sail to alone, love —
Sweet is a kiss from thy ruddy young mouth.
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