Unless you can think, when the song

is done,

No other is soft in the rhythm;

Unless you can feel when left by
One

That all men else go with him; Unless you can feel when unpraised by his breath,

That your beauty itself wants proving,

Unless

you can swear "For life, for

death!"

Oh, fear to call it loving!

Unless you can muse in a crowd all

day

On the absent face that fixed you; Unless you can love, as the angels

may,

With the breadth of heaven betwixt

you;

Unless you can dream that his faith is fast

Through behooving and unbehooving; Unless you can die when the dream

is past—

Oh, never call it loving!

O MISTRESS

MINE

O MISTRESS mine, where are you

roaming?

O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,

That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

66

INFIRM

"I WILL not go," he said, "for well

I know her eyes' insidious spell,
And how unspeakably he feels
Who takes no pleasure in his meals.
I know a one-idea'd man
Should undergo the social ban,
And if she once my purpose melts
I know I'll think of nothing else.

"I care not though her teeth are pearlsThe town is full of nicer girls!

I care not though her lips are red—
It does not do to lose one's head!
I'll give her leisure to discover,
For once, how little I think of her;
And then how will she feel?" cried he-
And took his hat and went to see.