“I seek the heart. Didst ye forget? Ho!
The poison for my flowers I bid.”
A SONNET OF THE PAST
You sigh as backward gazest thou:
Ah, after all times then were best.
But, my dear friend, be not depressed,
You said it then as say you now.
And in that “then” not otherwise,
You longed for only what was past.
Thus further back you will surmise,