(7)
But love of her went wandering no mood
Of azure evening where the worm's slow spark
Kindled and dimmed and like enchantment stood
The spring's young moon upon the silver dark,
Nor followed any path that seeking her
Sought beauty first and would not find her breast
Save through old forests thick and loftier
Than guard the golden apples in the west.
She was the sky and country of his love,
The towns and towers and the outward farms,
And journeys in that land might only move
From her recalled to her recalling arms,
Where all horizons were attained and dear
Before he thought them far or wished them near.
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