Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/23

The Great Hunt ::And the rose is a red bygone,
 * When the face I love is going
 * And the gate to the end shall clang,
 * And it's no use to beckon or say, "So long"—
 * Maybe I'll tell you then—

some other time.

I never knew any more beautiful than you:
 * I have hunted you under my thoughts,
 * I have broken down under the wind
 * And into the roses looking for you.
 * I shall never find any

greater than you.

Blinking their stories Come soft On the dusk and the babble;