There our wonderlands remained

Unbeholden, unpossessed;—

Wonderlands no truth could mar,

Dreams no wakening could blot,

Lovelier because so far,

Real because we found them not.

{31}

FIRST LOVE

Our treasures hardly seemed our own,

Our

And barren our adventures were

Till comrades shared them:—one alone

I could not share.

We had no aims nor joys apart,

No secret we could long withhold:

One only, hidden in my heart,

I kept untold.

I see the little village church,

The faces that we used to know,

The parson in his pulpit-perch,

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