Across wild Faction’s field,
Prepared, with shame-forgetting face,
Whate’er thou wilt, to yield.
Yet this apostacy is such
As thou, too, shalt adore:
I should not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not office more.
Moonshine. January 2, 1886.
——:o:——
HANG SORROW, LET’S CAST AWAY CARE.