TO L. H. S.
Love, these vagrant songs may woo you
Once again from winter's ruth,—
Once more quicken memories failing
Of those days when we went sailing,
Eager as when first I knew you,
Sailing after my lost youth.
My lost youth, for in my sight you
Had yourself forborne to change
Since that age when we, together,
Made such mock of wind and weather,
Sought alone what might delight you,—
Ah, how sweet, how far, how strange!
Yet, though scarcely else anear you
Than Tithonus to Aurore,
I am still by Time requited,
Still can vaunt, as when we plighted,
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