Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XXXI. Tender Memory
‘O thou art put to many uses, sweet!’
By Stephen Phillips (1868–1915)
 
O THOU art put to many uses, sweet!
Thy blood will urge the rose, and surge in spring;
But yet!—
 
And all the blue of thee will go to the sky,
And all thy laughter to the rivers run;        5
But yet!—
 
Thy tumbling hair will in the West be seen,
And all thy trembling bosom in the dawn;
But yet!—
 
Thy briefness in the dewdrop shall be hung,        10
And all the frailness of thee on the foam;
But yet!—
 
Thy soul shall be upon the moonlight spent,
Thy mystery spread upon the evening mere.
And yet!—        15
 
 
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