Roses And Rue¹

　　（To L. L.）

　　Could we dig up this long-buried treasure，

　　Were it worth the pleasure，

　　We never could learn love's song，

　　We are parted too long.

　　Could the passionate² past that is fled

　　Call back its dead，

　　Could we live it all over again，

　　Were it worth the pain！

　　I remember we used to meet

　　By an ivied seat，

　　And you warbled each pretty word

　　With the air of a bird；

　　And your voice had a quaver in it，

　　Just like a linnet，

　　And shook， as the blackbird's throat

　　With its last big note；

　　And your eyes， they were green and grey

　　Like an April day，

　　But lit into amethyst³

　　When I stooped and kissed；

　　And your mouth， it would never smile

　　For a long， long while，

　　Then it rippled⁴ all over with laughter

　　Five minutes after.

　　You were always afraid of a shower，

　　Just like a flower：

　　I remember you started and ran

　　When the rain began.

　　I remember I never could catch you，

　　For no one could match you，

　　You had wonderful， luminous⁵， fleet，

　　Little wings to your feet.

　　I remember your hair - did I tie it？

　　For it always ran riot -

　　Like a tangled⁶ sunbeam of gold：

　　These things are old.

　　I remember so well the room，

　　And the lilac bloom

　　That beat at the dripping pane⁷

　　In the warm June rain；

　　And the colour of your gown，

　　It was amber-brown，

　　And two yellow satin bows

　　From your shoulders rose.

　　And the handkerchief of French lace

　　Which you held to your face -

　　Had a small tear left a stain？

　　Or was it the rain？

　　On your hand as it waved adieu

　　There were veins⁸ of blue；

　　In your voice as it said good-bye

　　Was a petulant⁹ cry，

　　'You have only wasted your life.'

　　（Ah， that was the knife！）

　　When I rushed through the garden gate

　　It was all too late.

　　Could we live it over again，

　　Were it worth the pain，

　　Could the passionate past that is fled

　　Call back its dead！

　　Well， if my heart must break，

　　Dear love， for your sake，

　　It will break in music， I know，

　　Poets' hearts break so.

　　But strange that I was not told

　　That the brain can hold

　　In a tiny ivory cell

　　God's heaven and hell.

 

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