Page:The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson, Vailima Edition, Volume 8, 1922.djvu/564

NEW POEMS CLXXVIII

DE M. ANTONIO

CLXXIX

OT roses to the rose, I trow,

The thistle sends, nor to the bee

Do wasps bring honey. Wherefore now

Should Locker ask a verse from me?

Martial, perchance,—but he is dead,

And Herrick now must rhyme no more;

Still burning with the muse, they tread

(And arm in arm) the shadowy shore.

They, if they lived, with dainty hand,

To music as of mountain brooks,

Might bring you worthy words to stand

Unshamed, dear Locker, in your books.

550