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Updated: June 23, 2025
How can one learn From marshlights how the great fires burn? Ah, no I never loved before!" He had smiled at Temple's confidences when Betty was at hand to be watched and guarded. Now Betty was away anywhere. And Temple was deciding whether it was she whom he loved. Suppose he did decide that it was she, and, as Miss Voscoe had said, made her see it? "Damn," said Vernon, "Oh, damn!"
I know them for the things they are: A passing pain, a longing fleet, A shape that soon I shall not meet, A fading dream of veil and star. Yet, even as my lips proclaim The wisdom that the years have lent, Your absence is joy's banishment And life's one music is your name. I love you to the heart's hid core: Those other loves? How can one learn From marshlights how the great fires burn?
He was haunted without cease by the little poem he had written when he was training himself to be in love with Betty: "I love you to my heart's hid core: Those other loves? How should one learn From marshlights how the great fires burn? Ah, no I never loved before!" "Prophetic, I suppose," he said, "though God knows I never meant it.
Glancing through a cleft I caught sight again of the far end of the bridge; noted among the clustered figures of its garrison of the frog-men a movement, a flashing of green fire like marshlights on spear tips; wondered idly what it was, and then, other thoughts crowding in, followed along, head bent, behind the pair who had found in what was Olaf's hell, their true paradise.
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