He dwelt beside me near the sea; _780 And oft in evening did we meet, When the waves, beneath the starlight, flee O'er the yellow sands with silver feet, And talked: our talk was sad and sweet, Till slowly from his mien there passed _785 The desolation which it spoke; And smiles,--as when the lightning's blast Has parched some heaven-delighting oak, The next spring shows leaves pale and rare, But like flowers delicate and fair, _790 On its rent boughs,--again arrayed His countenance in tender light: His words grew subtile fire, which made The air his hearers breathed delight: His motions, like the winds, were free, _795 Which bend the bright grass gracefully, Then fade away in circlets faint: And winged Hope, on which upborne His soul seemed hovering in his eyes, Like some bright spirit newly born _800 Floating amid the sunny skies, Sprang forth from his rent heart anew. Yet o'er his talk, and looks, and mien, Tempering their loveliness too keen, Past woe its shadow backward threw, _805 Till like an exhalation, spread From flowers half drunk with evening dew, They did become infectious: sweet And subtle mists of sense and thought: Which wrapped us soon, when we might meet, _810 Almost from our own looks and aught The wild world holds. And so, his mind Was healed, while mine grew sick with fear: For ever now his health declined, Like some frail bark which cannot bear _815 The impulse of an altered wind, Though prosperous: and my heart grew full 'Mid its new joy of a new care: For his cheek became, not pale, but fair, As rose-o'ershadowed lilies are; _820 And soon his deep and sunny hair, In this alone less beautiful, Like grass in tombs grew wild and rare. The blood in his translucent veins Beat, not like animal life, but love _825 Seemed now its sullen springs to move, When life had failed, and all its pains: And sudden sleep would seize him oft Like death, so calm, but that a tear, His pointed eyelashes between, _830 Would gather in the light serene Of smiles, whose lustre bright and soft Beneath lay undulating there. His breath was like inconstant flame, As eagerly it went and came; _835 And I hung o'er him in his sleep, Till, like an image in the lake Which rains disturb, my tears would break The shadow of that slumber deep: Then he would bid me not to weep, _840 And say, with flattery false, yet sweet, That death and he could never meet, If I would never part with him. And so we loved, and did unite All that in us was yet divided: _845 For when he said, that many a rite,