THE TALKING OAK. I. ONCE more the gate behind me falls; Once more before my face I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls, That stand within the chace. II. Beyond the lodge the city lies, Beneath its drift of smoke; And ah! with what delighted eyes I turn to yonder oak. III. For when my passion first began, Ere that, which in me burn'd, The love, that makes me thrice a man, Could hope itself return'd; IV. To yonder oak within the field I spoke without restraint, And with a larger faith appeal'd Than Papist unto Saint. V. For oft I talk'd with him apart, And told him of my choice, Until he plagiarised a heart, And answer'd with a voice. VI. Tho' what he whisper'd under Heaven None else could understand ; I found him garrulously given, A babbler in the land. VOL. II. VII. But since I heard him make reply Is many a weary hour; "Twere well to question him, and try If yet he keeps the power. F THE TALKING OAK. I. ONCE more the gate behind me falls Once more before my face I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls, That stand within the chace. II. Beyond the lodge the city lies, Beneath its drift of smoke ; And ah! with what delighted eyes I turn to yonder oak. ; III. For when my passion first began, Ere that, which in me burn'd, The love, that makes me thrice a man, Could hope itself return'd; IV. To yonder oak within the field I spoke without restraint, And with a larger faith appeal'd Than Papist unto Saint. V. For oft I talk'd with him apart, And told him of my choice, Until he plagiarised a heart, And answer'd with a voice. VI. Tho' what he whisper'd under Heaven None else could understand; I found him garrulously given, A babbler in the land. VOL. II. VII. But since I heard him make reply Is many a weary hour; "Twere well to question him, and try If yet he keeps the power. F XVI. “ And I have shadow'd many a group Of beauties, that were born In teacup-times of hood and hoop, Or while the patch was worn ; XVII. And, leg and arm with love-knots gay, About me leap'd and laugh'd The modish Cupid of the day, And shrill'd his tinsel shaft. XVIII. "I swear (and else may insects prick Each leaf into a gall) This girl, for whom your heart is sick, Is three times worth them all; XIX. "For those and theirs, by Nature's law, Have faded long ago; But in these latter springs I saw Your own Olivia blow, |