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. A Modern Sappho
2. To George Cruikshank
3. Stanzas Composed at Carnac
4. Written in Butler’s Sermons
5. To the Duke of Wellington

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

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