Chapter I: SEE a spirit

Young and eager, Beautiful, too, I think, (Although I cannot see it clearly) It is, by right of its own being, One with all lovely, youthful things; And they, its age-old kindred, Welcome it Saying, "Come, you too are one of us!"

. . . . . . .

This spirit is my own happy ghost-- But I, myself,--alas!

Perhaps

THERE was a man, once, and a woman Whose love was so entire That an angel, watching them, Said wistfully, "Would I were no angel But a mortal, Loving so, and so beloved!" . . . . Yet, when these two mated, A muddied drop, from some forgotten vial of ancestry, Brought them a child whose mind was dark; Who lived--and never called them by their names . . . . . . . They tended her For twenty years. Only when she died Did they weep, whispering, "Why?" The years could find no answer, Though they went questioning Until the end.

. . . . . . .

Still wondering They wandered out into the other country . . . . It was lonely there, Being parted from familiar things, And there was no one to answer questions, But, suddenly, (As a wind blows or a swallow flies against the sun) Came a young girl--eager! She ran to them, Calling dear names, (Names that would open heaven) "Who are you?" they entreated, trembling . . . . But they knew!-- Had they not dreamed her so For twenty years?

Glamour

THE knowledge of love Is like sudden sun upon a river-- The slipping water Is instantly opaque and glorious. No longer can we look into it Counting the pebbles, Watching the ribboned water-reeds, Or searching idly For that something which we lost (A ring with gems) It is all glamour, now! We turn away, shading our eyes.

Friendship