THE SAME CONTINUED
 Do you remember how I laughed at you
 In the Beaulieu woods, and how I made my peace?
 It was your thirtieth birthday, and you threw
 Stones like a school--girl at the chestnut trees.
 The heavens were light above us and the breeze.
 Your Corydon and all the merry crew
 Had wandered to a distance, busier bees
 Than we, who cared not where the hazels grew.
 We were alone at last. I had been teasing
 You with the burden of years left behind.
 You were too fair to find my wit displeasing,
 And I too tender to be less than kind.
 Your pebbles struck me. ``Wretch,'' I cried. The word
 Entered our hearts that instant like a sword.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XLV
written byWilfrid Scawen Blunt
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt





