New Poems And Variant Readings

STEVENSON'S POEMS
Than that the whole, hard world with one consent, In one continuous chorus of applause Poured forth for me and mine The homage of ripe praise.
I write the finis here against my love, This is my love's last epitaph and tomb. Here the road forks, and I Go my way, far from yours.
THE OLD CHIMERAS, OLD RECEIPTS
THE old Chimseras, old receipts
For making " happy land," The old political beliefs
Swam close before my hand.
The grand old communistic myths
In a middle state of grace. Quite dead, but not yet gone to Hell,
And walking for a space,
Quite dead, and looking it, and yet
All eagerness to show The Social-Contract forgeries
By Chatterton—Rousseau—