32 STEVENSON'S POEMS
Let Jacques stand Wert(h)ering by the wounded deer—
We shall make merry, honest friends of mine, At this unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine,
I know how, day by weary day,
Hope fades, love fades, a thousand pleasures fade. I have not trudged in vain that way
On which life';, daylight darkens, shade by shade. And still, with hopes decreasing, griefs increased,
StiU, with what wit I have shall I, for one, Keep open, at the annual feast,
The puppet-booth of fun,
I care not if the wit be poor,
The old worn motley stained with rain and tears, If but the courage still endure
That filled and strengthened hope in earlier years; If still, with friends averted, fate severe,
A glad, untainted cheerfulness be mine To greet the unruly time of year,
•The Feast of Valentine.
Priest, I am none ;of thine, and see
In the perspective of still hopeful youth
That Truth shall triumph over thee— Truth to one's slelf—I know no other truth.