Would the happy spirit descend
From the realms of light and song, In the chamber or the street.
As she looks among the blest, Should I fear to greet my friend
Or to say "Forgive the wrong," Or to ask her, "Take me, sweet,
To the regions of thy rest?"

But the broad light glares and beats,
And the shadow flits and Meets
And will not let me be; And I loathe the squares and streets,
And the faces that one meets,
Hearts with no love for me; Always I long to creep
Into some still cavern deep,
There to weep, and weep, and weep
My whole soul out to thee.

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON.

TOO LATE.

"Dowglas, Dowglas, tendir and treu."

Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
In the old likeness that I knew, I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Never a scornful word should grieve ye,
I 'd smile on ye sweet as the angels do; Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Oh, to call back the days that are not!
My eyes were blinded, your words were few: Do you know the truth now, up in heaven,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?

I never was worthy of you, Douglas;
Not half worthy the like of you: Now all men beside seem to me like shadows—
I love you, Douglas, tender and true.

Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,
Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew; As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true!