Calls back the things we love.
Elm. Love! love!—there are soft smiles and gentle words,
And there are faces, skilful to put on
The look we trust in—and ’tis mockery all!
—A faithless mist, a desert-vapour, wearing
The brightness of clear waters, thus to cheat
The thirst that semblance kindled! There is none,
In all this cold and hollow world—no fount
Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within
A mother’s heart. It is but pride, wherewith