 | The Poems of Selwyn Image |  |
97
TO W. R. L.
[_]
From his poor friend S. I. this meditation—after the latter's setting for certain young persons an Examination Paper on Art.
'Mid Art's wild pastures, or trim gardens rare,
Seeking now this, now that strange beauty there
To gather and bring home. Ah! me, the day
Draws swiftly to its close: almost away
The sunlight's vanished, silent night draws on.
And yet what nosegay have I plucked? what won
In usufruct of all that round me lay?
Poor prodigal, go to! idle are these regrets:
What's done or undone undone or done remains,
Nor shall I mend it here for all my pains—
As man hath sown so his strict due man gets.
The Gods are just: I pray they be pitiful too,
And in some world to come our chance renew!
July 28th, 1920.
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