"Boys perhaps," cried Julia softly, "but men soon forget."
"Youth never," I replied.
"Why 'Youth'?" said Dianeme. "Herrick was not always young."
"Ay, but all men once were young, please God," I said, "and youth is the only 'once' that's worth remembrance. Youth with the heart of youth adores you, ladies; because, when dreams come thick upon them, they catch your flying laughter in the woods. When the sun is sunk, and the stars kindle in the sky, then your eyes haunt the twilight. You come in dreams, and mock the waking. You the mystery; you the bravery and danger; you the long-sought; you the never-won; memories, hopes, songs ere the earth is mute. You will always be loved, believe me, O bright ladies, till youth fades, turns, and loves no more." And I gazed amazed on cherries of such potency as these.
"But once, sir," said Julia timidly, "we were not only loved but told we were loved."
"Where is the pleasure else?" cried Dianeme.
"Besides," said Electra, "Anthea says if we might but find where Styx flows one draught—my mere palmful—would be sweeter than all the poetry ever writ, save some."
"It is idle," cried Dianeme; "Herrick himself admired us most on paper."
"And ink makes a cross even of a kiss, that is very well known," said Julia.
"Ah!" said I, "all men have eyes; few see. Most men have tongues: there is but one Robin Herrick."