and the night for another story, Pale as a dream and shadowed with pencilled trees-- Ghosts of the stars came by who had sought for glory, Whispered to us of peace in the plaintive breeze, Whispered of old dead faiths that the day had shattered, Youth the penny that bought delight of the moon; That was the urge that we knew and the language that mattered That was the debt that we paid to the usurer June.
Here, deepest of dreams, by the waters that bring not Anything back of the past that we need not know, What if the light is but sun and the little streams sing not, We are together, it seems...

I have loved you so...
What did the last night hold, with the summer over, Drawing us back to the home in the changing glade?
_What leered out of the dark in the ghostly clover ?_ God!...

till you stirred in your sleep...

and were wild afraid...
Well...

we have passed...