April Love 1855-56 Arthur Hughes
The Miller's Daughter
It is the miller's daughter,
And she is grown so dear, so dear,
That I would be the jewel
That trembes in her ear;
For hid in ringlets day and night,
I'd touch her neck so warm and white.
And I would be the girdle
About her dainty dainty waist,
And her heart would beat against me,
In sorrow and I in rest;
And I should known if it beat right,
I'd clasp it round so close and tight.
And I would be the necklace,
And all day long to fall and rise
Upon her balmy bosom,
With her laughter or her sighs;
And I would lie so light, so light,
I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.
Love that hath us in the net,
Can he pass, and we forget?
Many suns arise and set;
Many a chance the years beget;
Love the gift is Love the debt.
Even so.
Love is hurt, with jar and fret;
Love is made a vague regret;
Eyes with idle tears are wet;
Idle habit links us yet.
What is love? for we forget:
Ah no! no!
Alfred Lord Tennyson
When this painting was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1856 the last six lines of this poem were placed alongside it.
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