d wheat extend in waving yellow plains,
Broken with wooded hills and leafy lanes,
To pass our honeymoon; a cottage where
The porch and windows are festooned with fair
Green wreaths of eglantine, and look upon
A shady garden where we'll walk alone
In the autumn sunny evenings; each will see
Our walks grow shorter, till at length to thee
The garden's length is far, and thou wilt rest
From time to time, leaning upon my breast
Thy languid lily face. Then later still,
Unto the sofa by the window-sill
Thy wasted body I shall carry, so
That thou mays't drink the last left lingering glow
Of even, when the air is filled with scent
Of blossoms; and my spirits shall be rent
The while with many griefs. Like some blue day
That grows more lovely as it fades away,
Gaining that calm serenity and height
Of colour wanted, as the solemn night
Steals forward thou shalt sweetly fall asleep
For ever and for ever; I shall weep
A day and night large tears upon thy face,
Laying thee then beneath a rose-red place
Where I may muse and dedicate and dream
Volumes of poesy of thee; and deem
It happiness to know that thou art far
From any base desires as that fair star
Set in the evening magnitude of heaven.
Death takes but little, yea, thy death has given
Me that deep peace and immaculate possession
Which man may never find in earthly passion.

The composition of the poem induced a period of literary passion,
during which he composed much various matter, even part of his great
poem, which he would have completed had he not been struck by an idea
for a novel, and so imperiously, that he wrote the book straight from
end to end. It was sent to a London publisher, and it raised some
tumult of criticism, none of which reached the author. When it
appeared he was far away, living in Arab tents, seeking pleasure at
other sources. For suddenly, when the strain of the composition of
his book was relaxed, civilization had grown hateful to him; a
picture by Fromantin, and that painter's book, _Un ete dans le
Sahara_, quickened the desire of primitive life; he sped away, and
for nearly two years lived on the last verge of civilization,
sometimes passing beyond it with the Bedouins into the interior, on
slave-trading or rapacious expeditions. The frequentation of these
simple people calmed the fever of ennui, which had been consuming
him. Nature leads us to the remedy that the development