To us, Beloved),

When safe 'neath sheltering arm

I may, without alarm,

Hear thy lips, close and warm,

Murmur: "Beloved!"

[Pg 9]

Doubt.

I do not know if all the fault be mine,

Or why I may not think of thee and be

At peace with mine own heart. Unceasingly

Grim doubts beset me, bygone words of thine

Take subtle meaning, and I cannot rest

Till all my fears and follies are confessed.

Perhaps the wild wind's questioning has brought

My heart its melancholy, for, alone

In the night stillness, I can hear him moan

In sobbing gusts, as though he vainly sought

Some bygone bliss. Against the dripping pane

In storm-blown torrents beats the driving rain.

[Pg 10]

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