 | Ernest |  |
So fared they all—
All save that pensive girl. Young Love, men say,
(But all such sayings mark but each one mood
Of manifold swift-fleeting fancy) is shy
And fitful—wild as the wind—dashing sunshine
With tears, and with bright hues, drawn from the two,
Spanning both sky and earth; winding his course
Waywardly; mocking his own end and main
Will, with bye-aims and off-start wilfulness.
Such, then, was Lucy's mood—as her mother hoped,
Fondly; for sagest surmise, hope or fear,
Love fools them all.
All save that pensive girl. Young Love, men say,
(But all such sayings mark but each one mood
Of manifold swift-fleeting fancy) is shy
And fitful—wild as the wind—dashing sunshine
With tears, and with bright hues, drawn from the two,
Spanning both sky and earth; winding his course
Waywardly; mocking his own end and main
Will, with bye-aims and off-start wilfulness.
Such, then, was Lucy's mood—as her mother hoped,
Fondly; for sagest surmise, hope or fear,
Love fools them all.
| Ernest | |