HAPPY
107
The shadow leave the Substance in the brooding light of noon?
Or if I had been the leper would you have left the wife?
Or if I had been the leper would you have left the wife?
xxvi.
Not take them? Still you wave me off—poor roses—must I go—
I have worn them year by year—from the bush we both had set—
What? fling them to you?—well—that were hardly gracious. No!
Your plague but passes by the touch. A little nearer yet!
Not take them? Still you wave me off—poor roses—must I go—
I have worn them year by year—from the bush we both had set—
What? fling them to you?—well—that were hardly gracious. No!
Your plague but passes by the touch. A little nearer yet!
xxvii.
There, there! he buried you, the Priest; the Priest is not to blame,
There, there! he buried you, the Priest; the Priest is not to blame,
