Olivia

She gamboll’d on the greens
A baby-germ, to when
The maiden blossoms of her teens
Could number five from ten.

I swear, by leaf, and wind, and rain—
And hear me with thine ears—
That tho’ I circle in the grain
Five hundred rings of years,

Yet, since I first could cast a shade,
Did never creature pass
So slightly, musically made,
So light upon the grass.

Then ran she, gamesome as the colt,
And livelier than a lark
She sent her voice thro’ all the holt
Before her, and the park.

A light wind chased her on the wing,
And in the chase grew wild,
As close as might be would he cling
About the darling child.

But light as any wind that blows,
So fleetly did she stir,
The flower she touch’d on, dipt and rose,
And turned to look at her.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

From “The Talking Oak.”