Old Love, New Love.

I built my heart a temple, a temple for my new love

All set with stately candlesticks to light the evening gloom.

I swung the golden censers high and kneeling at the altar,

I waited for my love to come in that brave empty room.

I built my heart a temple, a temple for my new love

But through the silence white and cold, the little dew wet feet

Of my old love came running, there, above the gleaming altar

Her wild, wild eyes looked out at me, so strange, and dark and sweet.

I built my heart a temple, a temple for my new love

I laid my choicest lilies there to give her grave delight.

But when the morning blossomed pale their loveliness lay withered

And but a wild wet woodflower glimmered coldly on my sight.

—A. J. Diprose.

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