An emerald, like a vine-leaf weaving
Upon the pedestal its glow,
Saith: "To thy life the vine is cleaving,
And fain upon thy grave would grow!"
8. THE HAZEL PATH.
It was so narrow, that two butterflies
Upon it, side by side, could scarcely flit.
And sunbeams darted there in stealthy wise:
The snail that crawled there filled its whole extent.
A morsel of blue sky shone over it
We 'neath its darkened vault together went.
And wonderful! Yet sooth it is to say,
We two found room enough upon the way.
9. STANZAS.
First the whole universe avails us not
But then our every yearning pang declines
In a cool alcove's single shadowy spot.
Above our heads the sun in radiance shines,
Yet we fear seeing it, as birds that fled
Safe from the tempest to a clump of pines
And in their gladness no more songs have shed.
