'SHE.'

   TO H. RIDER HAGGARD.

     Not in the waste beyond the swamp and sand,

     The fever-haunted forest and lagoon,

     Mysterious Kôr, thy fanes forsaken stand,

     With lonely towers beneath the lonely Moon!

     Not there doth Ayesha linger,—rune by rune

     Spelling the scriptures of a people banned,—

     The world is disenchanted! oversoon

     Shall Europe send her spies through all the land!

     Nay, not in Kôr, but in whatever spot,

     In fields, or towns, or by the insatiate sea,

     Hearts brood o'er buried Loves and unforgot,

     Or wreck themselves on some Divine decree,

     Or would o'er-leap the limits of our lot,

     There in the Tombs and deathless, dwelleth SHE!

    DEDICATION.

     Kôr

    ,

     Jan.

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