— Ik Marvel“Is it dream, or is it earnest, — those moon-lit walks upon the hills that skirt the city, when you watch the stars, listening to her voice, and feel the pressure of that jewelled hand upon your arm? — when you drain your memory of its whole stock of poetic beauties, to lavish upon her ear? Is it love, or is it madness, when you catch her eye, as it beams more of eloquence than lies in all your moonlight poetry, and feel an exultant gush of the heart, that makes you proud as a man, and yet timid as a boy, beside her?”
Love