I How Warm This Woodland Wild Recess! Love Surely Hath Been Breathing Here; And This Sweet Bed Of Heath, My Dear! Swells Up, Then Sinks With Faint Caress, As If To Have You Yet More Near. Ii Eight Springs Have Flown, Since Last I Lay On Sea-Ward Quantock'S Heathy Hills, Where Quiet Sounds From Hidden Rills Float Hear And There, Like Things Astray, And High O'Er Head The Sky-Lark Shrills. Iii No Voice As Yet Had Made The Air Be Music With Your Name; Yet Why That Asking Look? That Yearning Sigh? That Sense Of Promise Every Where? Belov'D! Flew Your Spirit By? Iv As When A Mother Doth Explore The Rose-Mark On Her Long-Lost Child, I Met, I Loved You, Maiden Mild! As Whom I Long Had Loved Before So Deeply Had I Been Beguiled. V You Stood Before Me Like A Thought, A Dream Remembered In A Dream. But When Those Meek Eyes First Did Seem To Tell Me, Love Within You Wrought O Greta, Dear Domestic Stream! Vi Has Not, Since Then, Love'S Prompture Deep, Has Not Love'S Whisper Evermore Been Ceaseless, As Thy Gentle Roar? Sole Voice, When Other Voices Sleep, Dear Under-Song In Clamor'S Hour.