Going
It will be vain for spring to come this year
However debonair, when you are going.
I shall not care, though daffodils are blowing
And every rose is fixed upon its spear!
And though with color-pang the earth be glowing,
It will be vain for pink and columbine
To offer me their fragrance or their wine;
Nor will it matter if the streams are flowing.
The night may settle earthward like a flower,
And earth itself go heartbreak into dawn—
I shall not care, remembering an hour
When in our hearts, as o'er a fabulous lawn,
A dryad danced, amid a diamond shower,
And alien to the world we stood withdrawn.
However debonair, when you are going.
I shall not care, though daffodils are blowing
And every rose is fixed upon its spear!
And though with color-pang the earth be glowing,
It will be vain for pink and columbine
To offer me their fragrance or their wine;
Nor will it matter if the streams are flowing.
The night may settle earthward like a flower,
And earth itself go heartbreak into dawn—
I shall not care, remembering an hour
When in our hearts, as o'er a fabulous lawn,
A dryad danced, amid a diamond shower,
And alien to the world we stood withdrawn.
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