TO ----


I heed not that my earthly lot
Hath little of Earth in it,
That years of love have been forgot
In the hatred of a minute:

I mourn not that the desolate 5
Are happier, sweet, than I,
But that you sorrow for my fate
Who am a passer-by.



ROMANCE


Romance, who loves to nod and sing
With drowsy head and folded wing
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet 5
Hath been--a most familiar bird--
Taught me my alphabet to say,
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild-wood I did lie,
A child--with a most knowing eye. 10