And spoke of days when we should love no more—

In the long dust, apart.

"Immortal?" No—it could not be,

Spirit with flesh must die.

Tho' heart should pray and hope make endless plea,

Reason would still outcry.

She died. They wrapped her in the dust—

I heard the dull clod's dole,

And then I knew she lived—that death's dark lust

Could never touch her soul!

[Pg 55]

[Pg 55]

LOVE'S WAY TO CHILDHOOD

We are not lovers, you and I,

Upon this sunny lane,

But children who have never known

Love's joy or pain.

The trees we pass, the summer brook,

The bird that o'er us darts—

We do not know 'tis they that thrill

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