le water flows

And night and day
Chase one another round the rolling sphere,
Henceforth our destined way
Divides. Fare onward, then, and leave me, dear.
There is no more to say."

* * * * *

Harsh songs and sweet
Come to me still, but as a tale twice told.
The throb, the quivering beat
Harry my blood no longer as of old,
Nor stir my wayworn feet.

Yet for a threne
Once more I wear the purple robe and make
Sad music and serene
For pity's sake, ah me, and the old time's sake,
And all that might have been.

For Love lies dead.
Love, the immortal, the victorious,
Is fallen and vanquished.
What charm can raise, what incantation rouse
That lowly, piteous head?

Why should I weep
My triumph? 'Twas my life or his. Behold
The wound, how wide and deep
Which in my side the arrow tipped with gold
Smote as I lay asleep!

Across thy way
I came not, Love, nor ever sought thy face;
But me, who dreaming lay
Peaceful within my quiet lurking-place,
Thy shaft was sped to slay.

When hadst thou ruth,
That I should sorrow o'er thee and forgive?
Why should I grieve, forsooth?
Art thou not dead for ever, and I live?
And yet--and yet, in truth

Almost I would
That I had perished, and beside my bier
Thou and thy mother stood,
And from relenting eyes let fall a tear
Upon me, and my blood

Changed to a flower
Imperishable, a hyacinthine bloom,
In memory of an hour
Splendidly lived between Delight and Doom
Once when I wandered from my ivory tower.

THOMAS HARDY

A TRAMPWOMAN'S TRAGEDY (182-)

I

From Wynyard's Gap the livelong day,
The livelong day,
We beat afoot the northward way
We had travelled times before.
The sun-blaze burning on our backs,
Our shoulders sticking to our packs,
By fosseway, fields, and turnpike tracks
We skirted sad Sedge Moor.

II

Full twenty miles we jaunted on,
We jaunted on--
My fancy-man, and jeering John,
And Mother Lee, and I.
And, as the sun drew down to west,
We climbed the toilsome Poldon crest,
And saw, of landskip sights the best,
The inn that beamed thereby.

III

For months we had padded side by side,
Ay, side by side
Through the Great Forest, Blackmoor wide,
And where the Parret ran.
We'd faced the gusts on Mendip ridge,
Had crossed the Yeo unhelped by bridge,
Been stung by every Marshwood midge,
I and my fancy man.

IV

Lone inns we loved, my