150
THE EQUINOX
For that whereof
He was wrought
Was bound up with the curse
Of love.
So let him lie with earth above,
And earth below.
He hath forgotten who was fulfilled of woe.
He is buried deep, oh! deep:
Leave him alone to sleep.
Leave him to sleep alone under the sky;
He had one mighty vision, and did die.
Now he is dead that dream shall be fulfilled
While he doth sleep.
For, whilst his song is utterly stilled,
His dream doth wake again,
And laugh and weep.
But he is free, and knoweth no more pain.
VII
THE SONG
Yea! I who have lain dead among the roses
Have slain love utterly in my soul
By mine own death ! O constant-playing fount
Under the shadow of our Venus’ mount—
Thou whom I love, unto whose vine uncloses
The gaping wound whose sap hath made me whole,—