h century writers of society verse. It is called "Patchwork."
Many years ago the author kept a kind of journal in which he wrote down or
copied all the most beautiful or most curious things which he had heard or
which he had found in books. Only the best things remained, so the value
of the book is his taste in selection. Whatever Locker-Lampson pronounced
good, the world now knows to have been exactly what he pronounced, for his
taste was very fine. And in this book I find a little poem quoted from Mr.
Edwin Arnold, now Sir Edwin. Sir Edwin Arnold is now old and blind, and he
has not been thought of kindly enough in Japan, because his work has not
been sufficiently known. Some people have even said his writings did harm
to Japan, but I want to assure you that such statements are stupid lies.
On the contrary, he did for Japan whatever good the best of his talent as
a poet and the best of his influence as a great journalist could enable
him to do. But to come back to our subject: when Sir Edwin was a young
student he had his dreams about marriage like other young English
students, and he put one of them into verse, and that verse was at once
picked out by Frederick Locker-Lampson for his little book of gems. Half a
century has passed since then; but Locker-Lampson's judgment remains good,
and I am going to put this little poem first because it so well
illustrates the subject of the lecture. It is entitled "A Ma Future."

Where waitest thou,
Lady, I am to love? Thou comest not,
Thou knowest of my sad and lonely lot--
I looked for thee ere now!

It is the May,
And each sweet sister soul hath found its brother,
Only we two seek fondly each the other,
And seeking still delay.

Where art thou, sweet?
I long for thee as thirsty lips for streams,
O gentle promised angel of my dreams,
Why do we never meet?

Thou art as I,
Thy soul doth wait for mine as mine for thee;
We cannot live apart, must meeting be
Never before we die?

Dear Soul, not so,
For time doth keep for us some happy years,
And God hath portioned us our smiles and tears,
Thou knowest, and I know.

Therefore I bear
This winter-tide as bravely as I may,
Patiently waiting for the bright spring day
That cometh with thee, Dear.

'Tis the May light
That crimsons all the quiet college gloom,
May it shine softly in thy sleeping room,
And so, dear wife, good night!

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