Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/162

152 VIII

earthly loves to me are of the earth;

But not for that are they to me less sweet,

Although I hold within my soul conceit

Of higher things that have a heavenly worth.

In my mortality I take my mirth,

And crown my head with roses, with swift feet

Run in the race-course, and in song compete

With others, and have joys of home and hearth.

For if in exile I should disappear,

And my true friends I never more might see,

Never to love, never to hold them dear,

Save in thought only, happier would they be

Of my light joys, though poorer, there to hear;

Even so my lady hath no jealousy.