The bells that ring, the peaks that climb,
The frozen snow's unbroken curd
Might yet revindicate in rhyme
The pauseless stream, the absent bird.
In vain—for to the deeps of life
You, lady, you my heart have stirred;
And since you say you love my life,
Be sure I love you for the word.
Of kindness, here I nothing say—
Such loveless kindnesses there are
In that grimacing, common way,
That old, unhonoured social war.
Love but my dog and love my love,
Adore with me a common star—
I value not the rest above
The ashes of a bad cigar.
TO MISS CORNISH
They tell me, lady, that to-day
On that unknown Australian strand—
Some time ago, so far away—