XXXVI THE QUARRY

All down that dismal villa’d street, With ugly green front-doors, I’d to and fro, on tiptoe feet And wonder which was yours! And when the bedroom candles shone And night fell deep and dark, The road would fade, and I’d press on Across some faery park. And you before me, you so near! —Elusive, ’mid the trees. I the bold horseman, you the deer— What nights, what dreams were these! Must Love and Beauty always fly The eager arms of men? Oh, I shall hunt you till I die, And when I live again!