III XXX WEST END LANE

Off through the dripping, moonless night, Up West End Lane and Frognal Rise, They trace their footsteps by the light Of love that fills their weary eyes. “Nellie, though Town’s a tiresome place, With far less joy in it than tears, To set my lips to your warm face Is worth a sight of dismal years!” “And I’m so happy, Jack, with you,” She whispers softly.... “See, the rain Has stopped, the clouds are broken through, The stars are shining clear again!” Pausing, they gaze across the Heath Submerged in fog—a dim hush’d lake Wherein the wretched might seek death, And lovers drown for dear Love’s sake. Then clasping hands, and touching lips, They dream beneath great sombre trees, Whence large and solemn-falling drips Are shaken by the restless breeze. “Oh, nothing’s half so sweet, my dear, As kisses in the quiet night: Lean close, and let me hold you near, Put out your arms, and clasp me tight! “Why should we wait, so cold and wise? We’re only human, Nell, we two; And even if love fades and dies— I shall remember this: won’t you?”