That queen of secrecy, the violet.
It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
All clean and comfortable I sit down to write.
I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel.
I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
O aching time! O moments big as years!