Page:The witch-maid & other verses (1914).djvu/96

 Cups too small to bear away Half the beauty of the day. But when walking bound with heat Shackled in the airless street, When the sky has lost its light And o'er all the dust is white— We shall turn to dreams of this As a damned soul thinks of bliss, And the loveliness we fail Now to grasp shall count full tale.