Alive to love me yet.

EDWARD M. HULME.
_The Palo Alto._


Pallas

You say there's a sameness in my style,
You long for the savor of something new,
You tell me that love is not worth while,
You wish for verse that is strong and true.
Well, I will leave the choice to you--
Prose or poetry, short or long,
Only we'll let this be the cue--
Love is excluded from the song.

I'll sing of some old cathedral pile,
Where, as we sit in a carved oak pew,
The sunlight illumines nave and aisle,
And peace seems thrilling us through and through.
No? you don't think that will do?
How would you like a busy throng,
A battle, Elizabeth's retinue?
But love is excluded from the song.

A journey, a voyage, a tropic isle,
The hush of the forest, the ocean blue,
A lament for all that is false and vile,
A paean for all that is good and true.