Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/182

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
170
LOVE IN EXILE.

And, lovely with the love of yore,
Its white ghost haunts the moon-white ways;
But, when it meets me face to face,
Flies trembling to the grave once more.