SHE turn-d the fair page with her fairer hand-
More fair and frail than it was wont to be-
O-er each remember-d thing he lov-d to see
She linger-d, and as with a fairy-s wand
Enchanted it to order. Oft she fann-d
New motes into the sun; and as a bee
Sings thro- a brake of bells, so murmur-d she,
And so her patient love did understand
The reliquary room. Upon the sill
She fed his favorite bird. -Ah, Robin, sing!
He loves thee.� Then she touches a sweet string
Of soft recall, and towards the Eastern hill
Smiles all her soul-for him who cannot hear
The raven croaking at his carrion ear.