Alfred Austin

Agatha is a great short poem by Alfred Austin [1835-1913]. He was poet laureate of the U.K. after Tennyson. Here's an excerpt, read the rest here. It has an echo of Shelley but is very close to the timber or tone of Keats and his emotionalism. It's like a bit lighter version of Beethoven:

She wanders in the April woods,
That glisten with the fallen shower;She leans her face against the buds,
She stops, she stoops, she plucks a flower.She feels the ferment of the hour:She broodeth when the ringdove broods;
The sun and flying clouds have powerUpon her cheek and changing moods.
She cannot think she is alone,As over her senses warmly stealFloods of unrest she fears to ownAnd almost dreads to feel.
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