We’ve scaled the stairway’s topmost height, And sat there talking half the night; And, gazing on the crowd below, Thanked Fate and Heaven that made us so;-- To hold the pure delights of brain Above light loves and sweet champagne. For, you and I, we did eschew The egoistic “I” and “you;” And all our observations ran On Art and Letters, Life and Man. Proudly we sat, we two, on high, Throned in our Objectivity; Scarce friends, not lovers (each avers), But sexless, safe Philosophers. * * * * * Dear Friend, you must not deem me light If, as I lie and muse to-night, I give a smile and not a sigh To thoughts of our Philosophy. _A Game of Lawn Tennis._ [Illustration: text decoration] What wonder that I should be dreaming Out here in the garden to-day? The light through the leaves is streaming,-- _Paulina cries, “Play!”_ The birds to each other are calling, The freshly-cut grasses smell sweet; _To Teddy’s dismay, comes falling_ _The ball at my feet._ “_Your stroke should be over, not under!_” “_But that’s such a difficult way!_” The place is a springtide wonder Of lilac and may; Of lilac, and may, and laburnum, Of blossom,--_We’er losing the set!_ _“Those volleys of Jenny’s,--return them;_ _“Stand close to the net!”_ * * * * * You are so fond of the Maytime, My friend, far away; Small wonder that I should be dreaming Of you in the garden to-day. _To E._ [Illustration: text decoration] The mountains in fantastic lines Sweep, blue-white, to the sky, which shines Blue as blue gems; athwart the pines The lake gleams blue. We three were here, three years gone by; Our Poet, with fine-frenzied eye, You, steeped in learned lore, and I, A poet too. Our Poet brought us books and flowers, He read us _Faust_; he talked for hours Philosophy (sad Schopenhauer’s), Beneath the trees: And do you mind that sunny day, When he, as on the sward he lay, Told of Lassalle who bore away The false Louise? Thrice-favoured bard! to him alone That green and snug retreat was shown, Where to the vulgar herd unknown, Our pens we plied. (For, in those distant days, it seems, We cherished sundry idle dreams, And with our flowing foolscap reams The Fates defied.) And after, when the day was gone, And the hushed, silver night came on, He showed us where the glow-worm shone;-- We stooped to see.