Irene's Dream
"Only the lady, Sir—
But she is mad."
"Mad! And she lives alone?"
"Oh, Sir, old Urien's cot is in that wood,
And his wife Nesta. Do not you go near him!
All are afraid of him. Sometimes he comes
At evening to the village shop to buy,
But no one speaks to him."
And with a smile,
Whilst the two little speakers stood aghast,
Over the stile leapt Florestan, and still
Calling his truant, followed the woodpath.
A growling summons from the hazel copse—
Where with suspended axe and wrathful glare
Lifted his head the auburn-haired old man,
Like one who hates the rest of humankind
"You must go back, or 'twill be worse for you
The lady sees no strangers"—stayed him not.
Keen impulse urged him on, till suddenly
An archway of two meeting elm-tree boughs
Disclosed a startling glitter of blue lake—
On one side o'er a shrubbery's verdant growth,
With pink and lilac and gold blooms enwrought,
White glimpses of a house, a path along
The water's reed-fringed margin, where the sun
Brooded from May's warm sky, and gleaming things
But she is mad."
"Mad! And she lives alone?"
"Oh, Sir, old Urien's cot is in that wood,
And his wife Nesta. Do not you go near him!
All are afraid of him. Sometimes he comes
At evening to the village shop to buy,
But no one speaks to him."
And with a smile,
Whilst the two little speakers stood aghast,
Over the stile leapt Florestan, and still
Calling his truant, followed the woodpath.
A growling summons from the hazel copse—
Where with suspended axe and wrathful glare
Lifted his head the auburn-haired old man,
Like one who hates the rest of humankind
"You must go back, or 'twill be worse for you
The lady sees no strangers"—stayed him not.
Keen impulse urged him on, till suddenly
An archway of two meeting elm-tree boughs
Disclosed a startling glitter of blue lake—
On one side o'er a shrubbery's verdant growth,
With pink and lilac and gold blooms enwrought,
White glimpses of a house, a path along
The water's reed-fringed margin, where the sun
Brooded from May's warm sky, and gleaming things
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