Poem by Matthew Arnold

Too Late

Each on his own strict line we move,
And some find death ere they find love;
So far apart their lives are thrown
From the twin soul which halves their own.

And sometimes, by harder fate,
The lovers meet, but meet too late.
- Thy heart is mine! - True, true! ah, true!
- Then, love, thy hand! - Ah no! adieu! 

1. To Marguerite: Continued
2. Calais Sands
3. Stanzas Composed at Carnac
4. Heine’s Grave
5. Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse

Dinah Craik Too Late ("Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas")

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