Page:The town down the river; a book of poems.djvu/46

 Having found that she, by way of right reward, Will after madness go remembering, And laurel be as grass,— Remembers the one thing That she has left to bring. The floor about me now is like a sward Grown royally. Now it is like a sea That heaves with laurel heavily, Surrendering an outworn enmity For what has come to be.

—But not for you, No, not for you, returning with your curled And haggish lips. And why are you alone? Why do you stay when all the rest are gone? Why do you bring those treacherous eyes that reek With venom and hate the while you seek