Is mixed with folly and defeat:

Her laurel never can grow sere

Who said that love is “bitter-sweet.”

ENVOI

From out that pallid atmosphere

Where dawn and darkness vaguely meet,

Comes but her lark-note cool and clear

Who said that love is “bitter-sweet.”

I have quoted enough to discredit “The King of the Black Isles” who in the Line O’Type of the Chicago Tribune for November, 1922, publishes a poem with the alliterative caption, A Lady Lived in Lesbos.[188] The last of the three stanzas is:

We have forgotten beauty and all our goods are good,