243

243

THE SPHINX (1894)

245

245

THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL (1898)

269

269

RAVENNA (1878)

305

305

p. 1POEMS

p. 1

p. 3HÉLAS!

p. 3

To drift with every passion till my soul Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play, Is it for this that I have given away Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control? Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll Scrawled over on some boyish holiday With idle songs for pipe and virelay, Which do but mar the secret of the whole. Surely there was a time I might have trod The sunlit heights, and from life’s dissonance Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God: Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod I did but touch the honey of romance— And must I lose a soul’s inheritance?

To

p. 5ELEUTHERIA

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