Page:The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson, Vailima Edition, Volume 8, 1922.djvu/467

NEW POEMS But stay beside the fire.

We loved, in days of yore,

Love, laughter, and the lyre.

Ah God, but death is dire,

And death is at the door—

We'll walk the woods no more.

3

LXXIX

H, man Henley, you're a Don!

Man, but you're a deevil at it!

This ye made an hour agone—

Tht!—like that—as tho' ye'd spat it,—

Eh, man Henley.

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