Page:Ethel Churchill Fragments III.pdf/10



It matters not its history—Love has wings, Like lightning, swift and fatal; and it springs, Like a wild flower, where it is least expected; Existing, whether cherished or rejected.

A mystery art thou!—thou mighty one! We speak thy name in beauty; yet we shun To say thou art our guest; for who will own His life thy empire, and his heart thy throne?