THE RIFT

‘ Twas just at gnat and cobweb-time,

When yellow begins to show in the leaf,

That your old gamut changed its chime

From those true tones — of span so brief! -

That met my beats of joy, of grief,

As rhyme meets rhyme.

So sank I from my high sublime!

We faced but chancewise after that,

And never I knew or guessed my crime...

Yes;‘ twas the date — or nigh thereat -

Of the yellowing leaf; at moth and gnat

And cobweb-time.