Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/291

 CVI

I ONELY I linger'd when you went,

Recalling how the days had fled

Each with its mingled treasure pent

Of shine and shade rememberèd

Oh, how I crush'd the grapes divine,

Blending a flood of wakeful wine.

Next look'd I on the well-lov'd scene,

Eager its ready wealth to glean:

And forg'd therefrom a cup of gold—

Red hills, blue loch, and islands green—

(Rare alchemy!). So could it hold

That vintage of our joy, and I

Drink deep the draught of memory.

II Love, be not sad but listen

To the laughter of the wave,

Sweeping ever madly after

His desire above yon cave: 249