You know how they never perish, How, in time of later art, Memories consecrate and sweeten Those defaced and tempest-beaten Flowers of former years we cherish Half a life, against our heart. Most, those love-fruits withered greenly, Those frail, sickly amourettes,-- How they brighten with the distance, Take new strength and new existence, Till we see them sitting queenly Crowned and courted by regrets! All that loveliest and best is, Aureole-fashion round their head, They that looked in life but plainly, How they stir our spirits vainly When they come to us, Alcestis-- Like returning from the dead! Not the old love but another, Bright she comes at memory's call, Our forgotten vows reviving To a newer, livelier living, As the dead child to the mother Seems the fairest child of all. Thus our Goethe, sacred master, Travelling backward thro' his youth, Surely wandered wrong in trying To renew the old, undying Loves that cling in memory faster Than they ever lived in truth. BOULOGNE-SUR-MER, _September 1872_. II RONDELS 1 Far have you come, my lady, from the town, And far from all your sorrows, if you please, To smell the good sea-winds and hear the seas, And in green meadows lay your body down. To find your pale face grow from pale to brown, Your sad eyes growing brighter by degrees; Far have you come, my lady, from the town, And far from all your sorrows, if you please. Here in this seaboard land of old renown, In meadow grass go wading to the knees; Bathe your whole soul a while in simple ease; There is no sorrow but the sea can drown; Far have you come, my lady, from the town. 2 _Nous n'irons plus au bois_ We'll walk the woods no more, But stay beside the fire, To weep for old desire And things that are no more. The woods are spoiled and hoar, The ways are full of mire; We'll walk the woods no more, But stay beside the fire. We loved, in days of yore, Love, laughter, and the lyre. Ah God, but death is dire, And death is at the door-- We'll walk the woods no more. CHATEAU RENARD, _August 1875_. 3 Since I am sworn to live my life And not to keep an easy heart, Some men may sit and drink apart, I bear a banner in the strife. Some can take quiet thought to wife, I am all day at _tierce_ and _carte_, Since I am sworn to live my life And not to keep an easy heart. I follow gaily to the fife, Leave Wisdom bowed above a chart, And Prudence brawing in the mart, And dare Misfortune to the knife, Since I am sworn to live my life. 4 OF HIS PITIABLE TRANSFORMATION I who was young so long, Young and alert and gay, Now that my hair is grey, Begin to change my song.