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Page 1 of 11905 · PDF PAGE 18
…moons of labour Into the compass of a single day : And wrought into continuous tune, One laughter with one langour for its neighbor, One thought of winter with one word of June, Muddled and mixed in mere dismay, Chiselled with the cunning chisel of despair, Found wanting, well aware Of its own fault, even insistent Thereon ; some fragrance rare Stolen from my ladys hair Perchance redeeming now and then the distant Fugitive tunes ; Ah ! Love ! the hour is over ! The moon is up, the vigil overpast. Call me to thee at last, O Rose, O perfect mi…
1905 · PDF PAGE 14
… rose, sole, sacred, wonderful, Informing all, in all most beautiful, Circle and sphere, perfect in every part, High above hope of Art : Though, be it said ! thou art nowhere now, Save in the secret chamber of my heart. Behind the brass of my anonymous brow. Ay ! let the coward and slave who writes write on ! He is no more harm to Love than the grey snake Who lurks in the dusk brake
1905 · PDF PAGE 15
… pose, the inscrutable, wan smile, On every lip alike. Time hath not had his will to strike At them ; they abide, they pass through all. Though their most ancient names may fall, They stir not nor are weary of Life, for with them, even as with us, Life is but Love. They know, we know ; let, then, the writing go ! That, in the very truth, we do not know. It may be in the centuries of our life Since we were man and wife There stirs some incarnation of that love. Some rosebud in the garden of spices blows, Some offshoot from the Rose Of the World,…