[Monkeywrench-general] again; And listened beneath the dank leaves, dear love, To the sibilant

[Schildgen <pre...@gi...>]

Dim with doubt. I know not where We two may fare: Though still with
every changing weather, We wander, groping on together. We do not love,
we are not friends, My soul and I. He lives a lie; Untruth lines every
way he wends. A scoffer he Who jeers at me: And so, my comrade and my
brother, We wander on and hate each other. Ay, there be taverns and to
spare, Beside the road; But some strange goad Lets me not stop to taste
their fare. Knew I the goal Toward which my soul And I made way, hope
made life fragrant: But no. We wander, aimless, vagrant! A WINTER'S DAY
Across the hills and down the narrow ways, And up the valley where the
free winds sweep, The earth is folded in an ermined sleep That mocks the
melting mirth of myriad Mays. Departed her disheartening duns and grays,
And all her crusty black is covered deep. Dark streams are locked in
Winter's donjon-keep, And made to shine with keen, unwonted rays. O icy
mantle, and deceitful snow! What world-old liars in your hearts ye are!
Are there not still the darkened seam and scar Beneath the brightness
that you fain would show? Come from the cover with thy blot and blur, O
reeking Earth, thou whited sepulchre! MY LITTLE MARCH GIRL Come to the
pane, draw the curtain apart, There she is passing, the girl of my
heart; See where she walks like a queen in the street, Weather-defying,
calm, placid and sweet. Tripping along with impetuous grace, Joy of her
life beaming out of her face, Tresses