Lines: “I Saw, or Dreamed I Saw, Her Sitting Lone”

I saw, or dreamed I saw, her sitting lone,

Her neck bent like a swan's, her brown eyes thrown

On some sweet poem — his, I think, who sings

Oenone, or the hapless Maud: no rings

Flashed from the dainty fingers, which held back

Her beautiful blonde hair. Ah! would these black

Locks of mine own were mingling with it now,

And these warm lips were pressed against her brow!

And, as she turned a page, methought I heard —

Hush! could it be?— a faintly murmured word,

It was so softly dwelt on — such a smile

Played on her brow and wreathed her lip the while

That my heart leaped to hear it, and a flame

Burned on my forehead — Sa'ra!—‘ t was my name.