62 ARCADIANS CONFER IN EXILE

So long ago it was! Nay, is it true In verity we passed a month or so In Arcady when life and love were new So long ago? The tide of time’s indomitable flow, Augmenting, rears a drearier realm, whereto We twain are exiled. Yet ... I do not know ... Now that a woman calls, whose eyes are blue, Whose speech is gracious—strangely sweet and low She calls, and smiles as Stella used to do So long ago.

I am not fit to follow; yet I pray Some mighty task be set me, to commit In her dear name, for trifles to essay I am not fit. Nay, I, unstable and infirm of wit— Even I!—return to my old love to-day, Whose bounty is so fond and infinite That I am heartened, and made strong, and may Not ever falter in deserving it, If but for dread lest of such grace men say I am not fit.

Time has changed naught in us; for now the din And darkness of tempestuous years, that wrought So vainly, lift; and it is lightly seen Time has changed naught. Such knowledge of those brawling years I bought: The thing which shall be is that which has been, When heaven again surprises us, unsought, And life returns full circle; and we win Again to realms which with how little thought We ceded, and find loyalty wherein Time has changed naught.

Sweetheart, I wait; now, as in time gone by, Your suppliant, half-frightened, half-elate, Outside the trellised doors of Arcady, Sweetheart, I wait. Again I glimpse its meadows—through a grate, Alas!—and streams and groves and cloudless sky; And cry to you to be compassionate,— Yea, as of old to Stella, now I cry To you that once were Stella; and my fate Attends your piloting, for whose reply, Sweetheart, I wait.