Lady of the Mere, Sole-sitting by the shores of old romance.
Faith is a passionate intuition.
A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
My apprehension comes in crowds, I dread the rustling of the grass, The very shadows of the clouds, Have power to shake me as they pass, I question things and do not find, one that will answer to my mind, And all the world appears unkind.
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
A deep distress has humanised my soul.