ODLEIAN

JUN 1943

IBRARY

1

I.

THE LAKE OF GENEVA.

DAY

AY glimmered, and to Italy I went;

Thy gates, Geneva, swinging heavily,

Thy gates so slow to open, swift to shut;

As on that Sabbath-eve to young Rousseau,

When in his anguish but a step too late

He sate him down and wept - wept till the morning;

Then rose to go

- a wanderer thro' the world.

Day glimmered and I went, a gentle breeze

Ruffling the waters of the Leman lake;

And soon a passage-boat came sweeping by,

Laden with farmers-wives and fruits and flowers,

And many a chanticleer and partlet caged

For Vevay's market-place — a motley group

Seen thro' the silvery haze. But soon 'twas gone.

The shifting sail flapped idly for an instant,

Then bore them off.

I am not one of those

So dead to all things in this visible world,

So wondrously profound as to move on
In the sweet light of heaven, like him of old b
(His name is justly in the Calendar)