| |
| 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. | |
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