Amid the glooms of carven tombs in Khufu's
pyramid--
Though the sages, down the ages, smile their cynic
doubt,
Man and maid, unafraid, put the schools to rout;
Seek to chain love and retain love in the bonds of
breath,
Vow to hold love, bind and fold love even unto
death!

The dust of forty centuries has buried Babylon,
And out of all her lovers dead rises only one;
Rises with a song to sing and laughter in his eyes,
The old song--the only song--for all the rest are lies!

For, oh, the world has just one dream, and it is very
old--
'Tis youth's dream--a silly dream--but it is flushed
with gold!


A RHYME OF THE ROADS

PEARL-SLASHED and purple and crimson and
fringed with gray mist of the hills,
The pennons of morning advance to the music of
rock-fretted rills,
The dumb forest quickens to song, and the little
gusts shout as they fling
A floor-cloth of orchard bloom down for the flash-