Page:Ethel Churchill Fragments I.pdf/9



Is not the lark companion of the spring? And should not Hope—that sky-lark of the heart— Bear, with her sunny song, youth company? Still is its sweetest music poured for love; And that is not for me: yet will I love, And hope, though only for her praise and tears; And they will make the laurel's cold bright leaves Sweet as the tender myrtle.