The truth that is not bliss,
But will they bring another thing
That will compare with this?
NATURA NATURANS.[12]
Beside me,—in the car,—she sat,
She spake not, no, nor looked to me:
From her to me, from me to her,
What passed so subtly, stealthily?
As rose to rose that by it blows
Its interchanged aroma flings;