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The Spike: or, Victoria University College Review October 1905

"Idas Te Diliget Unam."

"Idas Te Diliget Unam."

When you and I are apart (Alas!)
The fairest lilies are dark with despair,
And the roses are pale with grief to the tips.
The imperial purple maragon
Droops wan to the ground that you walked upon:
The myrtle yields no scent as I pass;
Not the faintest breath from the laurel slips
To fill a want in the summer air.

But should you come again, O my heart!
The lilies would sway in their pure delight,
And a flush from the tips of the roses start.
The listless grace of the maragon
Would rise from your feet, and its purple don;
And myrtle and laurel would yield their scent,
Of your own soul-sweetness redolent,
And the blue weather break from the brows of Night.

For Pallas loves the berries filled
Lip-red, with the ripeness bursting though;
And Bacchus, the joy the crushed rapes out-spilled;
Priapus, the tumbling orchard-yields;
And Pales, the stretch of the happy fields:
But Idas,—he knoweth no worth but you