Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/200

 ALL ye fair ladies with your colours and your graces,
 * And your eyes clear in flame of candle and hearth,

Toward the dark of this old window lift not up your smiling faces,
 * Where a Shade stands fo-rlorn from the cold of the earth.

God knows I could not rest for one I still was thinking of;
 * Like a rose sheathed in beauty her spirit was to me;

Now out of unforgottenness a bitter draught I'm drinking of,
 * 'Tis sad of such beauty unremembered to be.

Men all all shades, O Woman. — Winds wist not of the way they blow.
 * Apart from your kindness, life's at best but a snare.

Though a tongue now past praise this bitter thing doth say, I know
 * What solitude means, and how, homeless, I fare.