We needs must be divided in the tomb, For I would die among the hills of Spain, And o'er the treeless, melancholy plain Await the coming of the final gloom. But thou -- O pitiful! -- wilt find scant room Among thy kindred by the northern main, And fade into the drifting mist again, The hemlocks' shadow, or the pines' perfume. Let gallants lie beside their ladies' dust In one cold grave, with mortal love inurned; Let the sea part our ashes, if it must, The souls fled thence which love immortal burned, For they were wedded without bond of lust, And nothing of our heart to earth returned. Departure. [Hermann Hagedorn] My true love from her pillow rose And wandered down the summer lane. She left her house to the wind's carouse, And her chamber wide to the rain. She did not stop to don her coat, She did not stop to smooth her bed -- But out she went in glad content There where the bright path led. She did not feel the beating storm, But fled like a sunbeam, white and frail, To the sea, to the air, somewhere, somewhere -- I have not found her trail. Song. [Richard Le Gallienne] She's somewhere in the sunlight strong, Her tears are in the falling rain, She calls me in the wind's soft song, And with the flowers she comes again. Yon bird is but her messenger, The moon is but her silver car; Yea! Sun and moon are sent by her, And every wistful, waiting star. The Invisible Bride. [Edwin Markham] The low-voiced girls that go In gardens of the Lord, Like flowers of the field they grow In sisterly accord. Their whispering feet are white Along the leafy ways; They go in whirls of light Too beautiful for praise. And in their band forsooth Is one to set me free -- The one that touched my youth -- The one God gave to me. She kindles the desire Whereby the gods survive -- The white ideal fire That keeps my soul alive. Now at the wondrous hour, She leaves her star supreme, And comes in the night's still power, To touch me with a dream. Sibyl of mystery On roads unknown to men, Softly she comes to me, And goes to God again. The Inverted Torch. [Edith M. Thomas] Threading a darksome passage all alone, The taper's flame, by envious current blown, Crouched low, and eddied round, as in affright, So challenged by the vast and hostile night, Then down I held the taper; -- swift and fain Up climbed the lovely flower of light again! Thou Kindler of the spark of life divine, Be henceforth the Inverted Torch a sign That, though the flame beloved thou dost depress, Thou wilt not speed it into nothingness; But out of nether gloom wilt reinspire, And homeward lift the keen empyreal fire! Night's Mardi Gras. [Edward J. Wheeler]