"Now, how did you find it out? who told you?" asks Mr. Darling, with careful surprise. "Yes, it is true; I don't seek to deny it. The hopeless passion I entertain for you is dearer to me than any other more successful affection can ever be. I worship a dream,—an idea,—and am happier in my maddest moments than others when most same.,
When she made him this little trustful speech, however, he had felt some embarrassment, and had turned his attention upon a little muddy boy who was playing pitch-and-toss, irrespective of consequences, on the other side of the way.,
Perhaps Longfellow has more cleverly—and certainly more tenderly—than any other poet described the earlier approaches of the god of Love, when he says,—.
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