You think I am speaking strangely? 
       You cannot understand? 
     Well, let me look down into your eyes,
       And let me take your hand. 
     I am running away from danger;
       I am flying before I fall;
     I am going because with heart and soul
       I love you—­that is all. 
     There, now you are white with anger;
       I knew it would be so. 
     You should not question a man too close
       When he tells you he must go.

     [Illustration:]

     THROUGH THE VALLEY.

     [AFTER JAMES THOMSON.]

     As I came through the Valley of Despair,
       As I came through the valley, on my sight,
       More awful than the darkness of the night,
     Shone glimpses of a Past that had been fair,
       And memories of eyes that used to smile,
       And wafts of perfume from a vanished isle,
     As I came through the valley.

     As I came through the valley I could see,
       As I came through the valley, fair and far,
       As drowning men look up and see a star,
     The fading shore of my lost Used-to-be;
       And like an arrow in my heart I heard
       The last sad notes of Hope’s expiring bird,
     As I came through the valley.

     As I came through the valley desolate,
       As I came through the valley, like a beam
       Of lurid lightning I beheld a gleam
     Of Love’s great eyes that now were full of hate. 
       Dear God!  Dear God!  I could bear all but that;
       But I fell down soul-stricken, dead, thereat,
     As I came through the valley.

     BUT ONE.

     The year has but one June, dear friend;
       The year has but one June;
     And when that perfect month doth end,
     The robin’s song, though loud, though long,
       Seems never quite in tune.

     The rose, though still its blushing face
       By bee and bird is seen,
     May yet have lost that subtle grace—­
     That nameless spell the winds know
       Which makes it garden’s queen.

     Life’s perfect June, love’s red, red rose,
       Have burned and bloomed for me. 
     Though still youth’s summer sunlight glows;
     Though thou art kind, dear friend, I find
       I have no heart for thee.

     [Illustration:]

     [Illustration:  A JUNE ROSE]

     GUILO.

     Yes, yes!  I love thee, Guilo; thee alone. 
       Why dost thou sigh, and wear that face of sorrow? 
     The sunshine is to-day’s, although it shone
       On yesterday, and may shine on to-morrow.

     I love but thee, my Guilo! be content;
       The greediest heart can claim but present pleasure. 
     The future is thy God’s.  The past is spent. 
       To-day is thine; clasp close the precious treasure.