Sometimes I whistled in the wind, Sometimes I angled, thought and deed Torpid, as swallows left behind That winter 'neath the floating weed: At will to wander every way From brook to brook my sole delight, As lithe eels over meadows gray Oft shift their glimmering pool by night.

In 1833 this stanza ran thus:--

I loved from off the bridge to hear The rushing sound the water made, And see the fish that everywhere In the back-current glanced and played; Low down the tall flag-flower that sprung Beside the noisy stepping-stones, And the ma.s.sed chestnut boughs that hung Thick-studded over with white cones,]

[Footnote 11: In 1833 the following took the place of the above stanza which was added in 1842:--

How dear to me in youth, my love, Was everything about the mill, The black and silent pool above, The pool beneath that ne'er stood still, The meal sacks on the whitened floor, The dark round of the dripping wheel, The very air about the door-- Made misty with the floating meal!

Thus in 1833:--

Remember you that pleasant day When, after roving in the woods, ('Twas April then) I came and lay Beneath those gummy chestnut bud That glistened in the April blue, Upon the slope so smooth and cool, I lay and never thought of _you_, But angled in the deep mill pool.]

[Footnote 12: Thus in 1833:--

A water-rat from off the bank Plunged in the stream. With idle care, Downlooking thro' the sedges rank, I saw your troubled image there.

Upon the dark and dimpled beck It wandered like a floating light, A full fair form, a warm white neck, And two white arms--how rosy white!]

[Footnote 13: 1872. Cas.e.m.e.nt-edge.]

[Footnote 14: Thus in 1833:--

If you remember, you had set Upon the narrow cas.e.m.e.nt-edge A long green box of mignonette, And you were leaning from the ledge.

I raised my eyes at once: above They met two eyes so blue and bright, Such eyes! I swear to you, my love, That they have never lost their light.

After this stanza the following was inserted in 1833 but excised in 1842:--

That slope beneath the chestnut tall Is wooed with choicest breaths of air: Methinks that I could tell you all The cowslips and the kingcups there.

Each coltsfoot down the gra.s.sy bent, Whose round leaves hold the gathered shower, Each quaintly-folded cuckoo pint, And silver-paly cuckoo flower.]

[Footnote 15: Thus in 1833:--

In rambling on the eastern wold, When thro' the showery April nights Their hueless crescent glimmered cold, From all the other village lights I knew your taper far away.

My heart was full of trembling hope, Down from the wold I came and lay Upon the dewy-swarded slope.]

[Footnote 16; Mr. c.u.ming Walters in his interesting volume 'In Tennyson Land', p. 75, notices that the white chalk quarry at Thetford can be seen from Stockworth Mill, which seems to show that if Tennyson did take the mill from Trumpington he must also have had his mind on Thetford Mill. Tennyson seems to have taken delight in baffling those who wished to localise his scenes. He went out of his way to say that the topographical studies of Messrs. Church and Napier were the only ones which could be relied upon. But Mr. c.u.ming Walters' book is far more satisfactory than their thin studies.]

[Footnote 17: Thus in 1833:--

The white chalk quarry from the hill Upon the broken ripple gleamed, I murmured lowly, sitting still, While round my feet the eddy streamed: "Oh! that I were the wreath she wreathes, The mirror where her sight she feeds, The song she sings, the air she breathes, The letters of the books she reads".]

[Footnote 18: 1833.

I loved, but when I dared to speak My love, the lanes were white with May Your ripe lips moved not, but your cheek Flushed like the coming of the day.]

[Footnote 19: 1833. Rosecheekt, roselipt, half-sly, half-shy.]

[Footnote 20: Cf. Milton, 'Paradise Lost';--

Two other precious drops that ready stood He, ere they fell, kiss'd.]

[Footnote 21: These three stanzas were added in 1842, the following being excised:--

Remember you the clear moonlight, That whitened all the eastern ridge, When o'er the water, dancing white, I stepped upon the old mill-bridge.

I heard you whisper from above A lute-toned whisper, "I am here"; I murmured, "Speak again, my love, The stream is loud: I cannot hear ".

I heard, as I have seemed to hear, When all the under-air was still, The low voice of the glad new year Call to the freshly-flowered hill.

I heard, as I have often heard The nightingale in leavy woods Call to its mate, when nothing stirred To left or right but falling floods.]

[Footnote 22: 1842. I gave you on the joyful day.]

[Footnote 23: In 1833 the following stanza took the place of the one here subst.i.tuted in 1842:--

Come, Alice, sing to me the song I made you on our marriage day, When, arm in arm, we went along Half-tearfully, and you were gay With brooch and ring: for I shall seem, The while you sing that song, to hear The mill-wheel turning in the stream, And the green chestnut whisper near.

In 1833 the song began thus, the present stanza taking its place in 1842:--

I wish I were her earring, Ambushed in auburn ringlets sleek, (So might my shadow tremble Over her downy cheek), Hid in her hair, all day and night, Touching her neck so warm and white.]

[Footnote 24: 1872. In.]

[Footnote 25: 1833.

I wish I were the girdle Buckled about her dainty waist, That her heart might beat against me, In sorrow and in rest.

I should know well if it beat right, I'd clasp it round so close and tight.

This stanza bears so close a resemblance to a stanza in Joshua Sylvester's 'Woodman's Bear' (see Sylvester's 'Works', ed. 1641, p. 616) that a correspondent asked Tennyson whether Sylvester had suggested it.

Tennyson replied that he had never seen Sylvester's lines ('Life of Tennyson', iii., 51). The lines are:--

But her slender virgin waste Made mee beare her girdle spight Which the same by day imbrac't Though it were cast off by night That I wisht, I dare not say, To be girdle night and day.

For other parallels see the present Editor's 'Ill.u.s.trations of Tennyson', p. 39.]

[Footnote 26: 1833.

I wish I were her necklace, So might I ever fall and rise.]