50
Tower of Ivory
But last I learned the truth of love,
That carnal love the world obeys.
'Tis but a web which Gaea wove
With warp of pain and weft of days,
Where vast, insensate, o'er the haze
Of mortal dreams she has her seat,—
A web to catch whom soon she slays.
For only dreams of love are sweet.
Envoy
The shadows in the windy wheat,
And throstle notes than roundelays.
For only dreams of love are sweet.
THE 'CHANTRESS
Lo, the lady Margaret!
Cunningly her fingers fret
Witcheries in clay.
She is Circe, sorceress
Mulberries make red her press,
Moon-ripe poppy blooms confess
Her way.
