jSHEPHEF^DiS j^URSE- 
j Offer you my all, 
nothing more of me sweet; 
All I can give you I give. 
Heart of my heart, were it more 
More would be laid at your feet: 
Love that should help you to live, 
Song that should spur you to soar. 
I that have love and no more, 
Give you hut love of you, sweet : 
He that hath more let him give ; 
He that hath wings, let him soar; 
Mine is the heart at your feet, 
Here that must love you to live. 
Swinburne. 
J^IR-JIME. 
IME, the foe of man’s dominion, 
Wheels around in ceaseless flight; 
Scattering from his hoary pinion 
Shades of everlasting night. 
Still beneath his frown appalling, 
Man and all his works decay: 
Still, before him, swiftly falling, 
Kings and kingdoms pass away. 
T. L. Peacock. 
26 
