Softly sighs the gracious wind-- Dash of rose, in deeps of sky, Love is fair and love is kind,-- Singing free--I passed him by.
Shredded clouds are whirled in air, Winter stalks adown the gale Tossing wide Love's golden hair-- Cease the singing--Love grows pale.
Howls the grey sky to the sea-- Loose the storm-dogs from their bed. Turned I back--and woe is me-- I must die--for Love is dead.
Sigh not for love, the ways of love are dark! Sweet Child--hold up the hollow of your hand And catch the sparks that flutter from the stars! See how the late sky spreads in flushing bars! They are dead roses from your own dear land Tossed high by kindly breezes: lean, and hark, And you shall know how morning glads her lark! The timid Dawn, herself a little child Casts up shy eyes in loving worship--dear, Is it not yet enough? the Spring is here And would you weep for Winter's tempest wild Sigh not for love, the ways of love are dark!
Sweet, in the golden morning of my days, With young tempestuous joy I reared my head To gaze adown the splendid sunlit ways Where all the fires of fame burned glory red, I recked not where the sounding arches led, Save at the end I gain my august bays.
But as of old, when through the patient night, Fair losing or fair gaining, till the morn, Great Israel strove to break the angel's might, Till spent and failing, in his heavenly scorn, Th' immortal wrestler touched the earthly born, Striking him powerless, winning thus the fight.
So did false Fortune, when I strove and fought, Smiling 'neath half-closed eyelids, when seemed won, For a brief hour, the beckoning goal I sought-- Then with frustrating touch dimmed all my sun Blotted the work and faith so brave begun; But what I gained was none too dearly bought.
I have no wreath to lay before your feet; There shines no future, and the past is dead; But you have heard me, and I love you--Sweet. The low sun crowns with gold your gracious head, The heavy lilies nod upon their bed-- I look at you, and find my life complete.
Broad browed beneath a cloud of dusky hair Her eyes are midnight seas that never sleep But see beyond the dull world's heavy air The mystery of ages buried deep.
The faint sweet shadows trembling round her mouth Lighten with youth and love the Sphinx's face. And as she moves, a soft wind from the South Floating, flower-laden seems--so sweet her grace.