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Francesca
Stately she moved, my lady, through the wood,
With lingering footfalls following her own thought
Which like a child at random, heeding naught,
Sped on before, one of a merry brood
As yet by Love untaught.
Upon the turf I lay in musing mood,
Pillowed by some gnarl-rooted forest tree,
And watched that vision passing silently
As in a dream, till all at once she stood
Struck still at sight of me.
51
E-2
