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De la Mare, Walter, 1873-1956

"Henry Brocken His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-Imaginable Regions of Romance"

Nay, you shall watch even hope away ere another
comes like me to mope and sigh, and play at swords with Memory."
She rose to her feet and drew her hands across her face, and smiling,
sighed deeply. And I saw how inscrutable and lovely she must ever seem
to eyes scornful of mean men's idolatries.
"And you will embark again," she said softly; "and in how small a ship
on seas so mighty! And whither next will fate entice you, to what new
sorrows?"
"Who knows?" I said. "And to what further peace?"
She laughed lightly. "Speak not of mockeries," she said, and fell
silent.
She seemed to be thinking quickly and deeply; for even though I did
not turn to her, I could see in imagination the restless sparkling of
her eyes, the stillness of her ringless hands. Then suddenly she
turned.
"Stranger," she said, drawing her finger softly along the cold stone
of the bench, "there yet remain a few bright hours to morning. Who
knows, seeing that felicity is with the bold, did I cast off into the
sea--who knows whereto I'd come! 'Tis but a little way to being
happy--a touch of the hand, a lifting of the brows, a shuddering
silence.


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