Life Is A Quest And Love A

Oh, Children, Growing Up To Be Adventurers Into Sophistry, Forbear, Forbear To Be Of Those That Read The Rood To Learn The Rose.

Time Does Not Bring Relief; You All Have Lied Who Told Me Time Would Ease Me Of My Pain! I Miss Him In The Weeping Of The Rain; I Want Him At The Shrinking Of The Tide; The Old Snows Melt From Every Mountain-side, And Last Year's Leaves Are Smoke In Every Lane; But Last Year's Bitter Loving Must Remain Heaped On My Heart, And My Old Thoughts Abide! There Are A Hundred Places Where I Fear To Go,--so With His Memory They Brim! And Entering With Relief Some Quiet Place Where Never Fell His Foot Or Shone His Face I Say, 'there Is No Memory Of Him Here!' And So Stand Stricken, So Remembering Him!

Thus In The Winter Stands The Lonely Tree, Nor Knows What Birds Have Vanished One By One, Yet Knows Its Boughs More Silent Than Before

And He Whose Soul Is Flat -- The Sky Will Cave In On Him By And By.

And All The Loveliest Things There Be Come Simply, So It Seems To Me.