decline when Love claims his own, And freely are bartered for kisses alone. 

 Some say that virtue is prized more than all, Virtue that scorns The baseness and ill The decalogue cites And sternly forbids to great and to small. But when on the horns Of dilemma, men kill Compunction, whose lights Die in darkness profound, Where mortals are fated to stumble and fall, Renouncing for kisses the wisdom of time To find in the sacrifice something sublime. 

 Rank, Riches and Fame have, each in their way, A hold on the mind That we think is supreme, And sweep man along To sated ambition's omnipotent sway: Till one day we find They are vain as a dream, Or a beautiful song Evanescently grand: And the value we see of the brave display Of Riches and Fame and Rank at their best, Is far below kisses when put to the test. 

 

 

 Autumn 

 A light mist creeps across the downs: A gleam through clouds is faintly seen: The grass is wet with heavy dew: Sear are the leaves that once were green. I walk at midday when the sun Throws still some welcome warmth and light: A chill comes with the afternoon, And icy is the air at night. Summer is dead. Its shrouded form Lies on the logs that make its pyre, And fancy sees its ghost ascend, A shadowy wraith above the fire. 

 

 

 To L 

 Just at this time of great content Old memories come between the lights To chasten with their whispers faint The passing Christmas merriment. Yet through it all, one constant note Chimes with the season's higher sense, Love's influence unchanged remains, Fragrant and sweet as frankincense. 

 

 

 Duty 

 What is a year that comes and goes Unless it mark a noble deed? We sow the seed Of flower or weed: Thrice happy he who leaves a rose. 

 What is a life in vainness spent, That will not bear the common test, When, laid to rest In earth's cold breast, We sleep at last, insentient? 

 Prev. P 17/20 next