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And so, to guess as best I may What angered her, awhile I stay Beneath this blown acacia bough, Without one kiss;
Yet all my wildered brain can pay My questioning, is but to pray Persuasion may my speech endow, And Love may never more allow My injured sweet to sail away Without one kiss.
Charles G. D. Roberts.
To-day, what is there in the air
That makes December seem sweet May ?
There are no swallows anywhere,
Nor crocuses to crown your hair, And hail you down my garden way. Last night the full moon's frozen stare
Struck me, perhaps ; or did you say Really,—you'd come, sweet friend and fair!
To-day ? To-day is here :—come ! crown to-day
With Spring's delight or Spring's despair, Love cannot bide old Time's delay :— Down my glad gardens light winds play,
And my whole life shall bloom and bear
IN ROTTEN ROW.
In Rotten Row a cigarette
I sat and smoked, with no regret
For all the tumult that had been.
The distances were still and green,