class="line">Were once again the immortal moment mine

THE HOUSE OF CHANGE

 

Was it last Autumn only, when I stood

At the field's edge, and watched the red glow creep

Among the leaves, and saw the swift flame sweep

From spruce to hemlock, till the living wood

Became a devastated solitude?

For now, behold, old seeds, long years asleep,

Wake; and a legion of young birches leap

To life, and tell the ashes life is good.

O Love of long ago, when this mad fire

Is over, and the ruins of my soul

With the Spring wind the old quest would resume,--

When age knocks at the inn of youth's desire,

Shall the new growth, now worthier of the goal,

Find still untenanted the chosen room?

THE HOUSE OF REGRET

 

It is not that I now were happier

If with the dawn my tireless feet were led

Along her path, till I saw her fair head

Thrown back to make the sunshine goldener:

For it is well, sometimes, the things that were

Are over, ere their perfectness hath fled;

Lest the old love of them should fade instead,

And lie like ruins round the throne of her.

Now with the wisdom of increasing years

I know each ancient joy a cup for tears;

Yet had I drunk, while they were draughts to praise,

Deeper, I were not now as men that grow

Old, and sit gazing out across the snow

To dream sad dreams of wasted summer days.

THE HOUSE OF WISDOM

 

I had not thought (ah, God! had I but