VI

O Heart, O Love,—I fear

      That Love may be kept too near.

      Hast heard, O Heart, that tale,

      How Love may be false and frail

            To a heart once holden dear?

      —"But this true Love of mine

      Clings fast as the clinging vine,

And mingles pure as the grapes in wine."

                        Heart, wilt thou go?

                              —"No, no!

                  Full hearts beat higher so."