Page:Wessex poems and other verses (IA wessexpoemsother00hard).pdf/162

 They've a way of whispering to me—fellow-wight who yet abide— In the muted, incasured note Of a ripple under archways, or a lone cave's stillicide:

"We have triumphed: this achievement turns the bane to antidote, Unsuccesses to success, Many thought-worn eves and morrows to a morrow free of thought.

"No more need we corn and clothing, feel of old terrestrial stress; Chill detraction stirs no sigh; Fear of death has even bygone us: death gave all that we possess."

W. D.—"Ye mid burn the wold bass-viol that I set such vallie by." Squire.—"You may hold the manse in fee, You may wed my spouse, my children's memory of me may decry."