The gilded wire he once would spurn The bird shall seek; the slave, once free, To keep the bonds he burst shall turn; Ere I return, weak heart, to thee. III. I gave thee up my life in thrall. God wot, it was no silken thread! Thy pride would make the gyves to gall; And it has made them break instead. IV. Thy smiles might make me smile again: Thy frowns in me no frown can move: Thine art is less than my disdain: Thy scorn is weak, as was my love. V. Out of the long lethargic trance Of tears I wake with sudden strength. My heart is cold beneath thy glance: And pain hath grown to power at length. VI. The suns _must_ shine: the months _will_ bring Fresh flowers. New heat my fancy warms. Young hopes cry out, like birds that sing Against the wake of thunderstorms. VII. A light through tears! new forms, new powers Arise: new life my spirit fills: As down dark skirts of drifting showers The wild light reels among the hills. VIII. Where leaves are sear new buds may start: Spring flowers may blow from winter frost: But never to the selfish heart Returns the empire pride hath lost. IX. There’s but a moment ’twixt the Past And all the Future. Now I see That mystic moment’s o’er at last; And I am far away from thee. TREVOR. TOO LATE. I. And we have met, O love, at last! Thy cheek is wan with wild regret; The bloom of life is half-way past; But we have met!—yes, we have met! II. My heart was wak’d beneath thy kiss From dreams which seem to haunt it yet: But I am I—thou, thou—and this Is waking truth—and we have met! III. Ah, though ’tis late, there may remain Before the grave—oh yet, even yet— Some quiet hours; and, free from pain, Some happy days, now we have met. IV. Thine arms! thine arms!—one long embrace! Ah, what is this? thine eyes are wet— Thy hand—it waves me from the place— Ah fool!—O love, too late we met! V.