I am too sad with knowledge not to know
1
So many faces covered up with snow,
That had so brave a gleam,
Have gone with wind and stream.
They might not stay for all their valiance;
6
Nor shall this face I hold,
Praying to keep it mine 'gainst Time and Chance,
Flooding my heart with gold,
Escape, even it, the cold.
Even as this summer day so hot and sweet,
11
So deep in flowers and grass,
This marble that is you from head to feet,
Like some frail bloom, shall pass,
In vain with desperate eyes I drink your eyes,
16
In vain with desperate hands
Fold you and love you; and, with desperate lies,
Would cheat the running sands—
Yea! and Love understands a wiser thing
21
That Joy is Joy, albeit so swift of wing,
And, though so soon it goes,
The Rose—ah! 'tis the Rose.