LOVE’S T O K E N - F L O WE R S. 75 
When thus I find myself disarmed and weak 
Before the ideal shapes that haunt me now! 
Oh Godhow long, misled by erring thought, 
Shall I grope darkly on in feeling’s maze 1 
When shall I be by Time’s sad lessons taught, 
And reach my home of rest by quiet ways ? 
SPEEDWELL. —Veronica 
Fidelity. 
The Widow's Wooer. 
He woos me in the honeyed words 
Which women love to hear— 
Those gentle flatteries that fall 
So sweet on woman’s ear ; 
He tells me that my face is fair— 
Too fair for grief to shade ; 
My cheek, he says, was never meant 
In sorrow’s gloom to fade. 
He stands beside me when I sing 
The songs of other, days, 
