The Works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate

THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER.

I SEE the wealthy miller yet,
His double chin, his portly size,
And who that knew him could forget

The busy wrinkles round his eyes? The slow wise smile that, round about His dusty forehead drily curl'd, Seem'd half-within and half-without,

And full of dealings with the world?

In yonder chair I see him sit,

For even here, where I and you

Have lived and loved alone so long, Each morn my sleep was broken thro' By some wild skylark's matin song. And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan; But ere I saw your eyes, my love,

I had no motion of my own. For scarce my life with fancy play'd Before I dream'd that pleasant dream— Still hither thither idly sway'd

Like those long mosses in the stream.

Three fingers round the old silver cup-Or from the bridge I lean'd to hear

I see his gray eyes twinkle yet

At his own jest-gray eyes lit up With summer lightnings of a soul

So full of summer warmth, so glad, So healthy, sound, and clear and whole, His memory scarce can make me sad.

Yet fill my glass: give me one kiss :

My own sweet Alice, we must die. There's somewhat in this world amiss Shall be unriddled by and by. There's somewhat flows to us in life, But more is taken quite away. Pray, Alice, pray, my darling wife, That we may die the self-same day.

Have I not found a happy earth?

I least should breathe a thought of pain. Would God renew me from my birth

I'd almost live my life again. So sweet it seems with thee to walk, And once again to woo thee mineIt seems in after-dinner talk

Across the walnuts and the wine

To be the long and listless boy

Late-left an orphan of the squire, Where this old mansion mounted high Looks down upon the village spire:

The milldam rushing down with noise, And see the minnows everywhere

In crystal eddies glance and poise, The tall flag-flowers when they sprung Below the range of stepping-stones, Or those three chestnuts near, that hung In masses thick with milky cones.

But, Alice, what an hour was that,

When after roving in the woods ('Twas April then), I came and sat

Below the chestnuts, when their buds Were glistening to the breezy blue;

And on the slope, an absent fool, I cast me down, nor thought of you, But angled in the higher pool.

A love-song I had somewhere read,

An echo from a measured strain, Beat time to nothing in my head

From some odd corner of the brain. It haunted me, the morning long, With weary sameness in the rhymes, The phantom of a silent song,

That went and came a thousand times.

Then leapt a trout. In lazy mood
I watch'd the little circles die ;
They past into the level flood,
And there a vision caught my eye;

The reflex of a beauteous form,

A glowing arm, a gleaming neck,
As when a sunbeam wavers warm
Within the dark and dimpled beck.
For you remember, you had set,
That morning, on the casement-edge
A long green box of mignonette,

'O that I were beside her now!
O will she answer if I call?
O would she give me vow for vow,
Sweet Alice, if I told her all?'

Sometimes I saw you sit and spin;
And, in the pauses of the wind,
Sometimes I heard you sing within ;
Sometimes your shadow cross'd the
blind.

And you were leaning from the ledge :
And when I raised my eyes, above
They met with two so full and bright-At
Such eyes! I swear to you, my love,

That these have never lost their light.

I loved, and love dispell'd the fear

That I should die an early death:
For love possess'd the atmosphere,

And fill'd the breast with purer breath.
My mother thought, What ails the boy?
For I was alter'd, and began
To move about the house with joy,

And with the certain step of man.

last you rose and moved the light, Flitted across into the night, And the long shadow of the chair

And all the casement darken'd there. But when at last I dared to speak,

The lanes, you know, were white with
may,

Your ripe lips moved not, but your cheek
Flush'd like the coming of the day ;
And so it was-half-sly, half-shy,

You would, and would not, little one!
Although I pleaded tenderly,
And you and I were all alone.

And slowly was my mother brought
To yield consent to my desire :
She wish'd me happy, but she thought

I might have look'd a little higher;
And I was young-too young to wed:

'Yet must I love her for your sake; Go fetch your Alice here,' she said:

Her eyelid quiver'd as she spake.

And down I went to fetch my bride :

But, Alice, you were ill at ease;
This dress and that by turns you tried,
Too fearful that you should not
please.

I loved you better for your fears,

I knew you could not look but well; And dews, that would have fall'n in tears,

I kiss'd away before they fell.

But that God bless thee, dear-who Before he mounts the hill, I know

My whole soul waiting silently,

O LOVE, Love, Love! O withering All naked in a sultry sky,

might!

O sun, that from thy noonday height
Shudderest when I strain my sight,
Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,
Lo, falling from my constant mind,
Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and
blind,

I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.

Last night I wasted hateful hours
Below the city's eastern towers :

I thirsted for the brooks, the showers :
I roll'd among the tender flowers:

I crush'd them on my breast, my mouth; I look'd athwart the burning drouth Of that long desert to the south.

Droops blinded with his shining eye :
I will possess him or will die.

I will grow round him in his place,
Grow, live, die looking on his face,
Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace.

CENONE.

THERE lies a vale in Ida, lovelier
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.
The swimming vapour slopes athwart the

glen,

Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine

to pine,

And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand

Last night, when some one spoke his name, | The lawns and meadow-ledges midway

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