CHAPTER XVIII

THE FACE OF LOVE Where have I seen these tall black trees, Two and two and three—yes, seven, Standing all about in a ring, And pointing up to Heaven? Where have I seen this black, black pool, That never ruffles to any breath, But stares and stares at the empty sky, As silently as death? How did we come here, you and I, With the pool beneath, and the trees above? Oh…