IV.
The painted bream may swim the stream—
I'll cast no line to-day, pardi!
In vain the river-ripples gleam,
In vain the thrushes' minstrelsy.
Vain is the wind that whispers, "Lo!
Thy fish are waiting—Angler, go!"
V.
Will you forgive if I forgive?
Life is too sad, I think, to live
Alone, and dream and smoke and fish;
I'll say "Forgive" first—if you wish?
VI.
For at that word, the Sorcery
Of Love shall change the earth and sky
To Paradise, with cherubim
Instead of birds on every limb.
VII.
Rivers shall sing our rhapsody;
The vaulted forest, tree by tree,
High hung with tapestry, shall glow
With golden pillars all a-row.
VIII.
And down the gilded forest aisle
Shy throngs of violets shall smile
And kiss your feet from tree to tree
While blue-bells droop in courtesy.
IX.
And if the sun incarnadine
