XIV.
I sate down beneath the beech Which leans over to the lane, And the far sound of your speech Did not promise any pain; And I blessed you full and free, With a smile stooped tenderly O'er the May-flowers on my knee.
I sate down beneath the beech Which leans over to the lane, And the far sound of your speech Did not promise any pain; And I blessed you full and free, With a smile stooped tenderly O'er the May-flowers on my knee.