Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/216

200 Joy in it less that its beauty

Blooms not to fade on his breast?

Nay: nor does one who at nightfall

Harkens the voice of the mavis

Feel less delight that the singer

Blesses him, high out of reach.

So, though you pass—and for ever,

Yet I, afar, shall remember

That the world holds such a maiden,

And, you remembering, love!