Page:Wessex poems and other verses (IA wessexpoemsother00hard).pdf/27



HEN you paced forth, to wait maternity, A dream of other offspring held my mind. Compounded of us twain as Love designed; Rare forms, that corporate now will never be!

Should I, too, wed as slave to Mode's decree, And each thus found apart, of false desire, A stolid line, whom no high aims will fire As had fired ours could ever have mingled we: