EARTH-BOUND.

EARTH-BOUND.
Georgia Wood Pangborn.
262.4

You mourn that I live but in yesterday,
Gone from the world by a hidden way;
But the hand of the wind in your hair is mine,
I am the bubble within your wine.

All night with the moths I have played and sped,
With their long, curled tongues from the roses fed,
Wondered with them at the moon and stars,
Bruised my wings at your window bars.

But my wings with your tears are confused and weak;
I am chained by the sorrowful words you speak:
Free me from murmur of life and fret- Love me enough to forget-forget!