In that mysterious, always brimming lake

Where those that have obeyed the holy law

Paddle and are perfect; leave unchanged

The hands that I have kissed

For old sakes' sake.

The last stroke of midnight dies.

All day in the one chair

[62]

From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged

In rambling talk with an image of air:

Vague memories, nothing but memories.

[63]

[63]

A DEEP-SWORN VOW

Others because you did not keep

That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine;

Yet always when I look death in the face,

When I clamber to the heights of sleep,

Or when I grow excited with wine,

Suddenly I meet your face.

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