Is it too late then, Evelyn Hope?
What, your soul was pure and true,
The good stars met in your horoscope,
Made you of spirit, fire and dew—
And, just because I was thrice as old,
And our paths in the world diverged so wide.
Each was nought to each, must I be told?
We were fellow mortals, nought beside?
IV.
No, indeed! for God above