Classic Poem

In Love's garden next I stood
Mid the myrtle's green increase,
Where great roses red as blood
Dreamed their passion into peace.
From his mansion marvellous
Made of amorous apple-boughs, —
Whose soft slow blush-tinted showers
Knolled the noiseless-footed hours, —
Forth came Love, a shepherd lad,
Star-eyed, ruddy-limbed, unclad,
Bringing flower-wine of his valleys
In a sorrow-charming chalice,
Spiced with myrrh and magic root.
Straight I drank: the while his flute
Gurgling loosed my speechless grief,
And, as streams that win relief
For the o'erbrimming mountain mere,
When it sheddeth tear by tear:
So my passioned thought came borne
Down those sliding sounds forlorn,
And I cried: " Love, stay with me.
Here forever would I be
In thy garden thus with thee. "
" Nay, " said he, " for in these valleys
Others crave my song and chalice. "
So he passed beyond his palace,
And, for all that I could say,
Bore his love-notes thence away,
While I wept. " Ah! welladay!
Stay, oh, stay. "