caught in time's mesh!
Salt are the dews in which new time breeds new sin, brews blood and
stews flesh;
Next year may see dead more germs than this weeded and reared them
afresh.


VII

Old times left perish, there's new time to cherish; life just shifts
its tune;
As, when the day dies, earth, half afraid, eyes the growth of the moon;
Love me and save me, take me or waive me; death takes one so soon!




II

BY THE CLIFF


I

Is it daytime (guess),
You that feed my soul
To excess
With that light in those eyes
And those curls drawn like a scroll
In that round grave guise?