Page:Preludes, Meynell, 1875.djvu/112

76 I would not if I might. I would not cease,

No if I might, the penance and the pain

For that lost soul down somewhere in the past,

That soul of mine that did and knew such things

If I could choose; and yet I wish, I wish,

Such little wishes, and so longingly.

Who would believe me, knowing what I am?

"Now from these noontide hills my home, my time,

My life for years lies underneath mine eyes,

And all the years that led up to these years.

I can judge now, and not the world for me.

And I, being what I am, and having done

What I have done, look back upon my youth

—Before my crime, I mean,—and testify:

It was not happy, no, it was not white,

It was not innocent, no, the young fair time.

The people and the years passed in my glass;

And all the insincerity of my thoughts

I laid upon the pure and simple Nature

(Now all the hills and fields are free of me),

Smiling at my elaborate sigh the smile

Of any Greek composing sunny gods.