VILLANELLE.

Wouldst thou not be content to die
When low-hung fruit is hardly clinging
And golden autumn passes by?

Beneath this delicate rose-gray sky,

While sunset bells are faintly ringing, Wouldst thou not be content to die?

For wintry webs of mist on high

Out of the muffled earth are springing,

And golden Autumn passes by.

O now when pleasures fade and fly,

And Hope her southward flight is winging,

Wouldst thou not be content to die?

Lest Winter come, with wailing cry
His cruel icy bondage bringing,

When golden Autumn hath passed by;

And thou with many a tear and sigh,

While life her wasted hands is wringing,

Shall pray in vain for leave to die

When golden Autumn hath passed by.

EDMUND Gosse.

VILLANELLE.

Little mistress mine, good-bye!
I have been your sparrow true;
Dig my grave, for I must die.

Waste no tear and heave no sigh,

Life should still be blithe for you, Little mistress mine, good-bye!

In your garden let me lie;

Underneath the pointed yew Dig my grave, for I must die.

We have loved the quiet sky

With its tender arch of blue; Little mistress mine, good-bye!

That I still may feel you nigh,
In your virgin bosom, too,
Dig my grave, for I must die.

Let our garden-friends that fly

Be the mourners, fit and few. Little mistress mine, good-bye! Dig my grave, for I must die.

EDMUND GOSSE.

VILLANELLE.

Where's the use of sighing?
Sorrow as you may,

Time is always flying

Flying!-and defying

Men to say him nay Where's the use of sighing?

Look! To-day is dying
After yesterday.
Time is always flying.

Flying-and when crying

Čannot make him stay, Where's the use of sighing?

Men with by-and-bying,
Fritter life away.

Time is always flying,

Flying!-O, from prying

Cease, and go to play. Where's the use of sighing, "Time is always flying?

W. E. HENLEY.

VILLANELLE.

A dainty thing's the Villanelle.
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.

A double-clappered silver bell

That must be made to clink in chime,

A dainty thing's the Villanelle;

And if you wish to flute a spell,

Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime, It serves its purpose passing well.

You must not ask of it the swell

Of organs grandiose and sublime—

A dainty thing's the Villaneile;

And, filled with sweetness, as a shell

Is filled with sound, and launched in time,

It serves its purpose passing well.

Still fair to see and good to smell

As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.

W. E. HENLEY.

VILLANELLE.

In the clatter of the train

Is a promise brisk and bright.

I shall see my love again!

I am tired and fagged and fain;
But I feel a still delight

In the clatter of the train,

Hurry-hurrying on amain

Through the moonshine thin and white

I shall see my love again!

Many noisy miles remain ;

But a sympathetic sprite

In the clatter of the train

Hammers cheerful :-that the strain
Once concluded and the fight,

I shall see my love again.

Yes, the overword is plain,-
If it's trivial, if it's trite-

In the clatter of the train :
"I shall see my love again."

W. E. IIENLEY.