Shall we forget our hearts did ever ache
And slowly break,
Because a dream by lightning truth was rent,
Or we had spent
A love too deep for one whole life to speak
To gain a joy which proved too light to stay,
As quickly fading as the tulip’s cheek,
As fickle as the sea in witching May?
LV
AVE ATQUE VALE
Our life is but a rosary
Of Hail and then Farewell;
Some never read the mystery
The onyx beads foretell.
They think each bead falls on the ground
And spells another loss:
God gathers them to make a round
And seals it with His cross.
WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD.
PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH
FOOTNOTES
[6] This poem is founded on a genuine study of the history of the gipsies, whose language was learnt by the writer in his boyhood.
[19] This poem refers to the mother of one of my friends. She was believed by the peasants on her estate to have been stolen by the fairies.