I LOOKED across the lawn one summer's day;
Deep shadowed, dreaming in the drowsy light,
And thought, what if this afternoon, so bright
And still, should end it?—as it may.

Blue dome, and flocks of fleece that slowly pass
Before the pale old moon, the while she keeps
Her sleepy watch, and ancient pear that sweeps
Its low, fruit-laden skirts along the grass.

What if I had to say to all of these,
'So this is the last time'—suddenly there
My love came loitering under the great trees;

And now the thought I could no longer bear:
Startled I flung it from me, as one flings
All sharply from the hand a bee that stings.