All day long in that mocking plight,
She followed him in a dumb despair;
And the people thought her a goodly sight,
Decked in her jewels rare.
And now at her lawful master’s side,
With a pain in her heart, as great as then
(So thinks this old man’s beautiful bride),
Zenobia walks again.
NO SONG
These summer days when all the poets sing
I have no voice for song.
I see the birds of summer taking wing,
And days so sweet and long,
Each seemed a little heaven with no end,
I know are gone for evermore, dear friend.
Nay, by and by comes another Spring;
And long, sweet, perfect days.
And by and by I shall have voice to sing
My old glad, happy lays.
More blithesome songs, more days that have no end;
More golden summers; but like thee no friend.
TWO FRIENDS
One day Ambition, in his endless round,
All filled with vague and nameless longings, found
Slow wasting Genius, who from spot to spot
Went idly grazing, through the Realms of Thought.
Ambition cried, ‘Come, wander forth with me;
I like thy face—but cannot stay with thee.’
‘I will,’ said Genius, ‘for I needs must own
I’m getting dull by being much alone.’
‘Your hands are cold—come, warm them at my fire,’
Ambition said. ‘Now, what is thy desire?’
Quoth Genius, ‘’Neath the sod of yonder heather
Lie gems untold. Let’s plough them out together.’
They bent like strong young oxen to the plough,
This done, Ambition questioned, ‘Whither now?
We’ll leave these gems for all the world to see!
New sports and pleasures wait for thee and me.’