Through my youth I stirred me not, High adventure missed I, Left the shining shrines unsought; Yet—_me deduxisti_! At my start by Helicon Love-lore little wist I, Worldly less; but footed on; Why? _Me suscepisti_! When I failed at fervid rhymes, “Shall,” I said, “persist I?” “_Dies_” (I would add at times) “_Meos posuisti_!” So I have fared through many suns; Sadly little grist I Bring my mill, or any one’s, _Domine_, _Tu scisti_! And at dead of night I call: “Though to prophets list I, Which hath understood at all? Yea: _Quem elegisti_?” 187– SURVIEW “Cogitavi vias meas” A CRY from the green-grained sticks of the fire Made me gaze where it seemed to be: ’Twas my own voice talking therefrom to me On how I had walked when my sun was higher— My heart in its arrogancy. “_You held not to whatsoever was true_,” Said my own voice talking to me: “_Whatsoever was just you were slack to see_; _Kept not things lovely and pure in view_,” Said my own voice talking to me. “_You slighted her that endureth all_,” Said my own voice talking to me; “_Vaunteth not_, _trusteth hopefully_; _That suffereth long and is kind withal_,” Said my own voice talking to me. “_You taught not that which you set about_,” Said my own voice talking to me; “_That the greatest of things is Charity_. . . ” —And the sticks burnt low, and the fire went out, And my voice ceased talking to me. FOOTNOTES {46} Quadrilles danced early in the nineteenth century. {128} It was said her real name was Eve Trevillian or Trevelyan; and that she was the handsome mother of two or three illegitimate children, _circa_ 1784–95.