To smile and sigh, to love and change: Oh, in our heart's recesses, We dress in fancies quite as strange As these our fancy dresses! THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. BY ALFRED TENNYSON. If In her ear he whispers gaily, my heart by signs can tell, Maiden, I have watched thee daily, And I think thou lov'st me well." She replies, in accents fainter, "There is none I love like thee." He is but a landscape-painter, Leads her to the village altar, And they leave her father's roof. "I can make no marriage present: Little can I give my wife. Love will make our cottage pleasant, And I love thee more than life." They by parks and lodges going Hears him lovingly converse, Ancient homes of lord and lady, Built for pleasure and for state. All he shows her makes him dearer : He shall have a cheerful home; When beneath his roof they come. With armorial bearings stately, Sees a mansion more majestic Than all those she saw before: Many a gallant gay domestic Bows before him at the door. And they speak in gentle murmur, When they answer to his call, While he treads with footsteps firmer, Here he lives in state and bounty Not a lord in all the county All at once the colour flushes Her sweet face from brow to chin: As it were with shame she blushes, And her spirit changed within. Then her countenance all over Pale again as death did prove: But he clasp'd her like a lover, And he cheer'd her soul with love. So she strove against her weakness, |