The air is hushed, save in the emerald shade The rain still drips and stirs each fretting leaf To soft insistence of its little grief. The hopeless calm all thought of life denies-- But hark! out through the silence, unafraid, A robin ripples to the chilly skies.
Not through this door of elemental calm, Patient, wet woodland, resting after rain, Brooding brown fields that wait the sleeping grain-- Not through this door may the wrecked spirit's balm-- Come in and take possession. There's a psalm Nature has crooned to weariness and pain, Easing the tumult of the world-worn brain, Sweet, wholesome mother of the open palm.
But the disastrous heart cries out for men, Strife where the fight is reddest. Verily Peace comes with fighting with the strength of ten, Here where the world is young, with naught to see. But day blow out across the long, low sky-- Peace means an emptiness, which rests to die.
All my dead roses! Now I lay them here, Shrined in a beryl cup. The mysteries Of their sweet hauntings and their witcheries Are not more subtle than this jewel clear, Are not more cold and dead. The winter's spear Has fallen on their heart, a heart so wise With lore of love. Dead roses. Beauty lies Hid in a perfume still supremely dear.
Roses of love, time killed you one by one, Laughed at my pains as sad I gathered up All the fair petals banished from the sun. Witness my triumph--how the dead loves bless Life--from my heart, which is their beryl cup, Crowning the winter of my loneliness.
How shall I hold you? By a scimitar Of flashing wit suspended o'er your head, Oh, my Beloved? Or with lips rose-red Lure you to Lethe? Shall I stand afar, Pale and remote and distant as a star, Challenging love? Or by a scarlet thread Jealousy's wiles, beguile by scorn and dread? Wounding the heart I love with hateful scar.
Nay, I can take no action, play no play; All my wit falters when I hear you speak, All my wise guile with which your wooing strove Vanishes as the sun of yesterday. I can but lay my cheek against your cheek-- Love me or leave me, I can only love.
Take all of me, pour out my life as wine, To dye your soul's sweet shallows. Violent sin Blazed me a path, and I have walked therein, Strong, unashamed. Your timorous hands need mine, As the white stars their sky, your lips' pale line Shall blush to roses where my lips have been. I ask no more. I do not hope to win-- Only to add myself to your design.