This page has been validated.
BATHING RHYME
Cups too small to bear away
Half the beauty of the day.
But when walking bound with heat
Shackled in the airless street,
When the sky has lost its light
And o'er all the dust is white—
We shall turn to dreams of this
As a damned soul thinks of bliss,
And the loveliness we fail
Now to grasp shall count full tale.
92
