Their labour o'er, and now the sinking sun
Lengthens the shadows—yet I still must love.
And who would bound the power of faithful love?
Still, I am foolish, wasting hours that should
Be spent in training vines to leafy elms,
Or weaving rushes soft and osiers strong
Into things useful for my daily work.
—Alexis scorns—I'll seek another friend.
12
