TWINS.
251
When those dews are dry,
And in day’s bright eye
Looking full they lie
Bright as rose and pearl,
All returns of joy
Pure of time’s alloy
Bless the rose-red boy,
Guard the rose-white girl.
Postscript.
Half a note from Blake
Or but one verse make
Of the Conqueror’s mine,
Better than my best
Song above your nest
I would sing: the quest
Now seems too divine.
April 28, 1881.
