I am laughing by the brook with her,
       &nbsp Splashed in its tumbling stir;
And then it is a blankness looms
       &nbsp As if I walked not there,
Nor she, but found me in haggard rooms,
       &nbsp And treading a lonely stair.

With radiant cheeks and rapid eyes
       &nbsp We sit where none espies;
Till a harsh change comes edging in
       &nbsp As no such scene were there,
But winter, and I were bent and thin,
       &nbsp And cinder-gray my hair.

We dance in heys around the hall,
       &nbsp Weightless as thistleball;
And then a curtain drops between,
       &nbsp As if I danced not there,
But wandered through a mounded green
       &nbsp To find her, I knew where.