And the sweet smell gone.

That vanishing loveliness,

That burdening breath

No bond of life hath then

Nor grief of death.

'Tis the immortal thought

Whose passion still

Makes of the changing

The unchangeable.

Oh, thus thy beauty,

Loveliest on earth to me,

Dark with no sorrow, shines

And burns, with Thee.

[Pg 44]

[Pg 44]

SLEEP

Men all, and birds, and creeping beasts,

When the dark of night is deep,

From the moving wonder of their lives

Commit themselves to sleep.

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