Through the holy images

At Pallas Athene's side,

Or been fit spoil for a centaur

Drunk with the unmixed wine.

[59]

[59]

BROKEN DREAMS

There is grey in your hair.

Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath

When you are passing;

But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing

Because it was your prayer

Recovered him upon the bed of death.

For your sole sake—that all heart's ache have known,

And given to others all heart's ache,

From meagre girlhood's putting on

Burdensome beauty—for your sole sake

Heaven has put away the stroke of her doom,

[60]

So great her portion in that peace you make

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