But I think I’ll bear Love’s smart
Till the wound has healed and fled,
Or thy head is like thy heart,
Or thy heart is like thy head.
Herbert Edwin Clarke.
THE RIPEST PEACH[A]
THE ripest peach is highest on the tree—
And so her love, beyond the reach of me,
Is dearest in my sight. Sweet breezes, bow
Her heart down to me where I worship now!