The Mystery of Choice Read online

  THE WHITE SHADOW.

  We are no other than a moving row Of magic shadow-shapes, that come and go Round with this sun-illumined lantern, held In midnight by the master of the show.

  A moment's halt--a momentary taste Of being from the well amid the waste-- And lo! the phantom caravan has reached The nothing it set out from. Oh, make haste!

  Ah, Love! could you and I with him conspire To grasp this sorry scheme of things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits--and then Remould it nearer to the heart's desire!

  FITZGERALD.