49 THE AGELESS MAID

Man’s Love, that leads me day by day Through many a screened and scented way, Finds to assuage my thirst No love that may the old love slay, None sweeter than the first. Fond heart of mine, that beats so fast As this or that fair maid trips past, Once, and with lesser stir, We viewed the grace of love, at last, And turned idolater. Lad’s Love it was, that in the spring When all things woke to blossoming, Was as a child that came Laughing, and filled with wondering, Nor knowing his own name. And still—whatever years impend To witness time a fickle friend And youth a dwindling fire,— I must adore till all years end My first love, Heart’s Desire. I may not hear men speak of her Unmoved, and vagrant pulses stir To greet her passing-by, And I, in all her worshipper, Must serve her till I die. For I remember: this is she That reigns in one man’s memory Immune to age and fret, And stays the maid I may nor see Nor win to, nor forget.