ROSA IGNOTA
Till the gods grant me sleep I drink and drink
Immortal dew: I am drunken on the brink. . . .
So may I fall into the shadowy sea
That surges under my unsteady feet;
Already has the morning fled from me,
And the stars call, and they are madly sweet
With some lost vision that I know not of:
It is not Death ; I think it is not Love.
For I have tasted death and love, and these
Shall not suffice; for love and death are one;
In all the secret star-wrought harmonies,
By married death and love is man undone.
There is some secret thing I wot not of;
It is not death; I know it is not love.
So do my songs end here ; the hour is fled,
And there are no more roses; I am fain
To cease from singing. Wait! the hour is sped,
My songs are turning into dreams again.
Oh! now the hour is dead, and I am fain
Awake life's young song back to soul again!
THE EPILOGUE
SHALL they avail, O wind,
The things that I have heard?
Because I am utterly blind,
Did I hear the wings that whirred ?
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