I POT-POURRI "Si jeunesse savait ?—" PLUNGE my hand among the leaves: (An alien touch but dust perceives, Nought else supposes ;) For me those fragrant ruins raise Clear memory of the vanished days When they were roses. "If youth but knew!" Ah, "if," in truth?- Braved the old clock-tower's dust and damp, To catch the dim Arthurian camp In misty distance; Peered at the still-room's sacred stores, Or rapped at walls for sliding doors Of feigned existence. What need had we for thoughts or cares ! The hot sun parched the old parterres And "flowerful closes "; We roused the rooks with rounds and glees, Played hide-and-seek behind the trees,— Then plucked these roses. Louise was one-light, glib Louise, Shy Ruth, all heart and tenderness, Who blushed before the mildest men I loved them all. Bell first and best; And Ruth, I thought,-why, failing these, When my High-Mightiness should please, She'd come for asking. Louise was grave when last we met; And Ruth, Heaven bless her, Ruth that I wooed,—and wooed in vain,— 1873. DOROTHY A REVERIE SUGGESTED BY THE NAME UPON A PANE HE then must once have looked, as I SH Look now, across the level rye, Past Church and Manor-house, and seen, The swallows must have twittered, too, What was she like? I picture her How not? She loved, maybe, perfume, And, for the rest, would seem to be Poor child!—with heart the down-lined nest Of warmest instincts unconfest, Soft, callow things that vaguely felt Not less I dream her mute desire Now pale, with timorous eyes that filled 'Twas then she'd seek this nook, and find |