Page:The volunteer, and other poems, Asquith, 1916.djvu/25

 Yet all the rays of all the moons,

The lights of all the skies

Are pale beside the dim lagoons

Of those mysterious eyes.

Old Man, your pearls are not for us,

Your rubies die too soon:

Have you the pearls of Sirius,

Or opals of the moon? 1913.

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