Page:Stringer - Lonely O'Malley.djvu/149

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

So many dreams must fail us, Dear,
So many Springs to Autumn turn.
That you and I, slow year by year,
The wisdom of our youth unlearn,—
That stranger wisdom when to me
You seemed a golden butterfly
Who all your careless life should be
A child of Earth's too open sky.