Page:New poems and variant readings, Stevenson, 1918.djvu/28

8 Than that the whole, hard world with one consent,

In one continuous chorus of applause

Poured forth for me and mine

The homage of ripe praise.

I write the finis here against my love,

This is my love's last epitaph and tomb.

Here the road forks, and I

Go my way, far from yours.

THE OLD CHIMÆRAS, OLD RECEIPTS

old Chimæras, old receipts

For making "happy land,"

The old political beliefs

Swam close before my hand.

The grand old communistic myths

In a middle state of grace,

Quite dead, but not yet gone to Hell,

And walking for a space,

Quite dead, and looking it, and yet

All eagerness to show

The Social-Contract forgeries

By Chatterton—Rousseau—