Poem by Robert Seymour Bridges

Shorter Poems. Book I. 16. Triolet (When first we met we did not guess)

When first we met we did not guess
That Love would prove so hard a master;
Of more than common friendliness
When first we met we did not guess.
Who could foretell this sore distress,
This irretrievable disaster
When first we met?—We did not guess
That Love would prove so hard a master.

1. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 13. The Windmill
2. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 4. “The Clouds Have Left the Sky”
3. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 7. “Gáy Róbin Is Seen No More”
4. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 23. “The storm is over, the land hushes to rest”
5. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 10. “O Love, my muse, how was’t for me”

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