XXIX
Love
There is on earth a thing more bootless still
Than to write figures on a running stream:—
And that thing is (believe me if you will)
To dream of one who ne'er of you doth dream.
Anon.
XXXI
Love
Since that first night when, bath'd in hopeless tears,
I sank asleep, and he I love did seem
To visit me, I welcome ev'ry dream,
Sure that they come as heav'n-sent messengers.
Komachi.
XXXII