I dare not tell a creature young as thou,
1
Thou innocent unfolding miracle
'Twixt girl and woman; 'tis too early now
For thee, and soon for me too late, to tell.
In thee I sight another's promised land
5
That with another's milk and honey flows;
Alas! not mine is the predestined hand
That shall stretch forth some day and take thy rose.
Only its shadow in the morning sun
9
Falls on the westering path my feet must take;
Of all thy petals, not for pity's sake
Will thy rose-gatherer spare a single one.
All will he have—yea! all thy sweetness hoard,
13
Miser of thee, though starved go all the rest;
Stern keeper of the garden of thy breast,
Of all thy treasure absolute dread lord.
May he be good to thee, thou little flower
17
That in the morning hath so sweet a smell;
If he should only wear thee for an hour—
Then shall I wish that I had dared to tell.