When we are spirits, and in the world of spirits,

It may be then that we shall ache no more,

Nor hunger for a voice, a touch, a kiss;

But while this wine of earth is in my veins,

[Pg 34] 

[Pg 34]

I hunger. Had I sought for happiness,

Should I have chosen love? But it was Love

Chose me, and all my soul is dyed in yours,

I cannot be a separate self——

Launcelot

Launcelot

Nor I.

Guenevere, when this body is in the grave,

My very dust will turn and yearn to you.

As the seed springs and shoots up through the earth,

So shall I come to you.

Guenevere

Guenevere

But now, but now,

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