MISPLACED LOVE.

Red wine that slowly leaned and brimmed the shell

Of pearl, where lips had touched, as light and swift

As naked petals of the rose adrift

Upon the lazy-luted ritournelle

Of summer bee-song: laughing as they fell,

Gold memories: dream incense, childhood's gift,

Blue as the smoke that far horizons lift,

Tenuous as the wings of Ariel:—

These treasured things I laid upon the pyre;

And the flame kindled, and I fanned it high,

And, strong in hope, could watch the crumbling past.

Eager I knelt before the waning fire,

Phoenix, to greet thine immortality...

But there was naught but ashes at the last.