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LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP.
Blame me not, I would not squander life in grief — I am abstemious ;
I but nurse my spirit's falcon, that its wing may soar again!
There 's no room for tears of weakness, in the blind eyes of a Phemius :
Into work the poet kneads them, — and he does not die till then.
CONCLUSION.
Bertram finished the last pages, while along the silence ever
Still in hot and heavy splashes, fell his tears on every leaf:
Having ended, he leans backward in his chair, with lips that quiver
From the deep unspoken, ay, and deep unwritten thoughts of grief.
