Then seemed I wrapped in rolling mists, and, oh,
Her arm was round me and her kisses dear
On eyes and lips, and words that none may know--
What words of promise said she in mine ear!
Drunk with her beauty still I felt no fear,
When, past the forest, like some bounding brute,
I heard the river roaring. Drawing near,
Again she whispered, and my soul grew mute
Before her voice that lulled like music of a lute: