1 FEBRUARY 1930, Page 21

A Lover

WHEN I loved truly I was a boy, To worship unduly . Was my great joy.

When I loved wisely I loved not well, For love and wisdom Rove separable.

Calypso dissembles, Psyche forswears, And loth is Phryne For lovers cares.

But true to its compass

The planet turns, Forgetting, forsaken—

And still it burns.

Time takes its triumph, The web is spun, But I keep my vision

Of every one ;

Though even the fairest, Most sweet of the fair, Seems but a ghost With a piteous air, A. E. COPPARD.