75 BY-WORDS
Reading edition
—After Alphonse Moreau.
Not even now in all things may there be An end of folly; nor, as mutineers Against love’s lunacy, that now appears Of no more weight or worth or urgency Than last night’s dreams,—not wholly yet may we Become in all things like all our compeers, That are armored by interminable years And keep no vestige of insanity. What yet remains, now we drift far apart, With seas between, and each of us forgets The happenings of all our happy days?— Your by-words, heard on other lips, to raise Love’s pitiable phantom in my heart, And waken mirthful memories and regrets.