|   | 
| TOO far away, oh love, I know, |  | 
| To save me from this haunted road, |  | 
| Whose lofty roses break and blow |  | 
| On a night-sky bent with a load |  | 
|   | 
| Of lights: each solitary rose, |         5 | 
| Each arc-lamp golden does expose |  | 
| Ghost beyond ghost of a blossom, shows |  | 
| Night blenched with a thousand snows. |  | 
|   | 
| Of hawthorn and of lilac trees, |  | 
| White lilac; shows discoloured night |         10 | 
| Dripping with all the golden lees |  | 
| Laburnum gives back to light. |  | 
|   | 
| And shows the red of hawthorn set |  | 
| On high to the purple heaven of night, |  | 
| Like flags in blenched blood newly wet, |         15 | 
| Blood shed in the noiseless fight. |  | 
|   | 
| Of life for love and love for life, |  | 
| Of hunger for a little food, |  | 
| Of kissing, lost for want of a wife |  | 
Long ago, long ago wooed.    .   .   .   .   .   . |         20 | 
| Too far away you are, my love, |  | 
| To steady my brain in this phantom show |  | 
| That passes the nightly road above |  | 
| And returns again below. |  | 
|   | 
| The enormous cliff of horse-chestnut trees |         25 | 
|   Has poised on each of its ledges |  | 
| An erect small girl looking down at me; |  | 
| White-night-gowned little chits I see, |  | 
|   And they peep at me over the edges |  | 
| Of the leaves as though they would leap, should I call |         30 | 
|   Them down to my arms; |  | 
| But, child, youre too small for me, too small |  | 
|   Your little charms. |  | 
|   | 
| White little sheaves of night-gowned maids, |  | 
|   Some other will thresh you out! |         35 | 
| And I see leaning from the shades |  | 
| A lilac like a lady there, who braids |  | 
|   Her white mantilla about |  | 
| Her face, and forward leans to catch the sight |  | 
|     Of a mans face, |         40 | 
| Gracefully sighing through the white |  | 
|     Flowery mantilla of lace. |  | 
|   | 
| And another lilac in purple veiled |  | 
|   Discreetly, all recklessly calls |  | 
| In a low, shocking perfume, to know who has hailed |         45 | 
| Her forth from the night: my strength has failed |  | 
|   In her voice, my weak heart falls: |  | 
| Oh, and see the laburnum shimmering |  | 
|     Her draperies down, |  | 
| As if she would slip the gold, and glimmering |         50 | 
    White, stand naked of gown.    .   .   .   .   .   . |  | 
| The pageant of flowery trees above |  | 
|   The street pale-passionate goes, |  | 
| And back again down the pavement, Love |  | 
|   In a lesser pageant flows. |         55 | 
|   | 
| Two and two are the folk that walk, |  | 
|   They pass in a half embrace |  | 
| Of linkèd bodies, and they talk |  | 
|   With dark face leaning to face. |  | 
|   | 
| Come then, my love, come as you will |         60 | 
|   Along this haunted road, |  | 
| Be whom you will, my darling, I shall |  | 
|   Keep with you the troth I trowed. |  | 
|   |