"
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.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97