Making all his pulses beat,
Filling him with greater courage,
Warming with a kindlier heat.
Then, farewell! Farewell forever!
Gentle Hesperid, and kind.
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Kind I call thee, yet 't were cruel
Thus the records of the mind,
The fair records, full of sunshine,
Hope, and sweetness, to divide;
Robbing life of all its flavor,
Turning back existence' tide.
But the gods, not we, have willed it,
In their happy homes above,
Caring little for our suffering,
Little for the pangs of love.
H. H.