Chapter 16 A LITTLE GIRL AND A LITTLE CROSS.

Love that hath us in the net,

Can he pass, and we forget?

Many suns arise and set,

Many a chance the years beget.

Love the gift is love the debt.

Even so.

Love is hurt with jar and fret.

Love is made a vague regret.

Eyes with idle tears are wet.

Idle habit links us yet,

What is love? for we forget:

Ah, no! no!

-T