Juliet Margeret Cameron
Call and I Will Follow
Francisca
Francisca walks in the shadow of night,
But it is not to gaze on the heavenly light --
But if she sits in her garden bower,
'Tis not for the sake of its blowing flower.
She listens -- but not for the nightingale --
Though her ear expects as soft a tale.
There winds a step through the foliage thick,
And her cheek grows pale--and her heart beats quick.
There whispers a voice thro' the rustling leaves,
A moment more--and they shall meet--
'Tis past--her Lover's at her feet.
~ Lord Byron ~
