And so Love dies. Ah no! it is not so!
For locked in Death’s white arms Love lies secure
In changeless sleep that knows no dream of change.
’Tis Life not Death that works Love’s overthrow,
For while Life lasts what love is safe or sure
When each day tells of passionate hearts grown strange?
J. C. C.
1890.
GLASGOW: PRINTED AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD.