The world—our world—which time may not destroy!
Your world and mine, unutterably sweet:
Dearest, once more, the old song at thy feet.
SONG WAS GONE FROM ME
Dearest, once more! This I could tell and tell
Till life turned drowsy with the ceaseless note;
Dearest, once more! The words throb in my throat,
My heart beats to them like a muffled bell.
Change—Time and Change! O Change and Time, you come
Not knocking at my door, knowing me gone;
Here have I dwelt within my heart alone,
Watching and waiting, while my muse was dumb
Song was gone from me—sweet, I could not sing,
Save as men sing upon the lonely hills;
Under my hand the old chord ceased to ring,
Hushed by the grinding of the high gods' mills.
Dearest, once more. Those mad mills had their way—
Now is mine hour. To every man his day.
GOOD WAS THE FIGHT
How have I toiled, how have I set my face
Fair to the swords! No man could say I quailed;
Ne'er did I falter; I dare not to have failed,
I dare not to have dropped from out the race.
Good was the fight—good, till a piteous dream
Crept from some direful covert of despair;
Showed me your look, that look so true and fair,
Distant and bleak; for me no more to gleam.
Then was I driven back upon my soul,
Then came dark moments; lady, then I drew
Forth from its place the round unfathomed bowl