XXII

Where every bird is bold to go,
And bees abashless play,
The foreigner before he knocks
Must thrust the tears away.

XXIII

The grave my little cottage is,
Where, keeping house for thee,
I make my parlor orderly,
And lay the marble tea,

For two divided, briefly,
A cycle, it may be,
Till everlasting life unite
In strong society.