Alas the plans that came to nought! Alas the soul that thrilled in vain! The sunlit future that he sought Was but a mirage of the brain. Where now the wit? Where now the will? The fungus is the master still. DARKNESS A gentleman of wit and charm, A kindly heart, a cleanly mind, One who was quick with hand or purse, To lift the burden of his kind. A brain well balanced and mature, A soul that shrank from all things base, So rode he forth that winter day, Complete in every mortal grace. And then the blunder of a horse, The crash upon the frozen clods, And Death? Ah! no such dignity, But Life, all twisted and at odds! At odds in body and in soul, Degraded to some brutish state, A being loathsome and malign, Debased, obscene, degenerate. Pathology? The case is clear, The diagnosis is exact; A bone depressed, a haemorrhage, The pressure on a nervous tract. Theology? Ah, there's the rub! Since brain and soul together fade, Then when the brain is dead enough! Lord help us, for we need Thine aid! III MISCELLANEOUS VERSES A WOMAN'S LOVE I am not blind I understand; I see him loyal, good, and wise, I feel decision in his hand, I read his honour in his eyes. Manliest among men is he With every gift and grace to clothe him; He never loved a girl but me — And I I loathe him! loathe him! The other! Ah! I value him Precisely at his proper rate, A creature of caprice and whim, Unstable, weak, importunate. His thoughts are set on paltry gain — You only tell me what I see — I know him selfish, cold and vain; But, oh! he's all the world to me! BY THE NORTH SEA Her cheek was wet with North Sea spray, We walked where tide and shingle meet; The long waves rolled from far away To purr in ripples at our feet. And as we walked it seemed to me That three old friends had met that day, The old, old sky, the old, old sea, And love, which is as old as they. Out seaward hung the brooding mist We saw it rolling, fold on fold, And marked the great Sun alchemist Turn all its leaden edge to gold, Look well, look well, oh lady mine, The gray below, the gold above, For so the grayest life may shine All golden in the light of love. DECEMBER'S SNOW The bloom is on the May once more, The chestnut buds have burst anew; But, darling, all our springs are o'er, 'Tis winter still for me and you. We plucked Life's blossoms long ago What's left is but December's snow.