I

As are the features of some well-loved face, On which a life’s prolixity is writ In moving characters much conned and fit Across a single soulful ground to trace Feeling and thought and purpose, like the grace Which motion adds to loveliness (there flit The spirit’s shades, and there the lamp is lit That lights twin souls to a lifelong embrace); So to the city-dweller hath the town, Much conned, its moving physiognomy, Which oft in exile, as the sun goes down, Teams in the caverned dusk of memory With haunting visions of dear streets, that crown Night’s sorrow with entrancing imagery.

HESEPE, 19th May