| IS it thy will that I should wax and wane, | |
| Barter my cloth of gold for hodden grey, | |
| And at thy pleasure weave that web of pain | |
| Whose brightest threads are each a wasted day? | |
| |
| Is it thy will—Love that I love so well— | 5 |
| That my Soul’s House should be a tortured spot | |
| Wherein, like evil paramours, must dwell | |
| The quenchless flame, the worm that dieth not? | |
| |
| Nay, if it be thy will I shall endure, | |
| And sell ambition at the common mart, | 10 |
| And let dull failure be my vestiture, | |
| And sorrow dig its grave within my heart. | |
| |
| Perchance it may be better so—at least | |
| I have not made my heart a heart of stone, | |
| Nor starved my boyhood of its goodly feast, | 15 |
| Nor walked where Beauty is a thing unknown. | |
| |
| Many a man hath done so; sought to fence | |
| In straitened bonds the soul that should be free, | |
| Trodden the dusty road of common sense, | |
| While all the forest sang of liberty, | 20 |
| |
| Not marking how the spotted hawk in flight | |
| Passed on wide pinion through the lofty air, | |
| To where the steep untrodden mountain height | |
| Caught the last tresses of the Sun God’s hair. | |
| |
| Or how the little flower he trod upon, | 25 |
| The daisy, that white-feathered shield of gold, | |
| Followed with wistful eyes the wandering sun | |
| Content if once its leaves were aureoled. | |
| |
| But surely it is something to have been | |
| The best belovèd for a little while, | 30 |
| To have walked hand in hand with Love, and seen | |
| His purple wings flit once across thy smile. | |
| |
| Ay! though the gorgèd asp of passion feed | |
| On my boy’s heart, yet have I burst the bars, | |
| Stood face to face with Beauty, known indeed | 35 |
| The Love which moves the Sun and all the stars! | |
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