4.

And in turn we make you ours, we say —

You and youth too,

Eyes and mouth too,

All the face composed of flowers, we say.

5.

All's our own, to make the most of, Sweet

Sing and say for,

Watch and pray for,

Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet.

6.

But for loving, why, you would not, Sweet, Though we prayed you,

Paid you, brayed you

Let all hope of grace beyond, lie there!

8.

And while the face lies quiet there,

Who shall wonder

That I ponder

A conclusion? I will try it there.

9.

As, why must one, for the love forgone,
Scout mere liking?

Thunder-striking

Earth, the heaven, we look above for, gone!

10.

Why with beauty, needs there money be -
Love with liking?

Crush the fly-king

In his gauze, because no honey bee?

11.

May not liking be so simple-sweet,
If love grew there

"Twould undo there

All that breaks the cheek to dimples sweet?

12.

Is the creature too imperfect, say?

Would you mend it

And so end it?

Since not all addition perfects aye!

13.

Or is it of its kind, perhaps,

Just perfection

Whence, rejection

Of a grace not to its mind, perhaps?

14.

Shall we burn up, tread that face at once

Into tinder,

And so hinder

Sparks from kindling all the place at once?

15.

Or else kiss away one's soul on her?

Your love-fancies!

A sick man sees

Truer, when his hot

eyes

roll on her!

16.

Thus the craftsman thinks to grace the rose,

Plucks a mould-flower

For his gold flower,

Uses fine things that efface the rose.

17.

Rosy rubies make its cup more rose,

Precious metals

Ape the petals,

Last, some old king locks it up, morose !

18.

Then, how grace a rose? I know a way!

Leave it rather.

Must you gather?

Smell, kiss, wear it

at last, throw away!

"CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER

CAME."

(See Edgar's Song in "LEAR.")

1.

My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee that pursed and scored
Its edge at one more victim gained thereby.

2.

What else should he be set for, with his staff?
What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare
All travellers that might find him posted there,
And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laugh
Would break, what crutch 'gin write my epitaph
For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare,

3.

If at his counsel I should turn aside

Into that ominous tract which, all agree,

"CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME." 97

Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly I did turn as he pointed; neither pride

Nor hope rekindling at the end descried,

So much as gladness that some end should be.

4.

For, what with my whole world-wide wandering,
What with my search drawn out thro' years, my hope
Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope

With that obstreperous joy success would bring, -
I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring

My heart made, finding failure in its scope.

5.

As when a sick man very near to death

Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end
The tears and takes the farewell of each friend,
And hears one bid the other go, draw breath
Freelier outside, ("since all is o'er" he saith,
"And the blow fall'n no grieving can amend ")

6.

While some discuss if near the other graves
Be room enough for this, and when a day
Suits best for carrying the corpse away,
With care about the banners, scarves and staves,
And still the man hears all, and only craves

He may not shame such tender love and stay.