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SOSPIRI VOLATE.
My love, in his desolate greatness,
Pursuing his stedfast way,
And thinking, perchance, in the twilight,
Of words I was forced to say.
If bodily life were in danger,
I then might hold out my hand ;
But as it is only his spirit,
Our friendship must cancelled stand.
Oh, pitiful fashion of loving !
Oh, pitiful pride of mine !
Love, come once again. 1 am waiting
For thee, to be thine, all thine !
UNSHELTERED.
[Gregory.]
O ADAMANT regiment of houses !
O commonplace walling me in !
O gates that but open on darkness !
O thoroughfares leading to sin !
