Dwell as a spirit in me, O thou one Sweet natural presence. In the years to be When all the mortal loves perchance are done, Them I will bid farewell, but, oh, not thee. I love thee. When the youthful visions fade, Fade thou not also in the hopeless past. Be constant and delightful, as a maid Sought over all the world, and found at last. * * * * * T. STURGE MOORE A SICILIAN IDYLL (FIRST SCENE) Damon: I thank thee, no; Already have I drunk a bowl of wine ... Nay, nay, why wouldst thou rise? There rolls thy ball of worsted! Sit thee down; Come, sit thee down, Cydilla, And let me fetch thy ball, rewind the wool, And tell thee all that happened yesterday. Cydilla: Thanks, Damon; now, by Zeus, thou art so brisk, It shames me that to stoop should try my bones. Damon: We both are old, And if we may have peaceful days are blessed; Few hours of buoyancy will come to break The sure withdrawal from us of life's flood. Cydilla: True, true, youth looks a great way off! To think It once was age did lie quite out of sight! Damon: Not many days have been so beautiful As yesterday, Cydilla; yet one was; And I with thee broke tranced on its fine spell; Thou dost remember? yes? but not with tears, Ah, not with tears, Cydilla, pray, oh, pray! Cydilla: Pardon me, Damon, 'Tis many years since thou hast touched thereon; And something stirs about thee-- Such air of eagerness as was thine when I was more foolish than in my life, I hope To ever have been at another time. Damon: Pooh! foolish?--thou wast then so very wise That, often having seen thee foolish since, Wonder has made me faint that thou shouldst err. Cydilla: Nay, then I erred, dear Damon; and remorse Was not so slow to find me as thou deemst. Damon: There, mop those dear wet eyes, or thou'lt ne'er hear What it was filled my heart full yesterday. Cydilla: Tell, Damon; since I well know that regrets Hang like dull gossips round another's ear. Damon: