The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part Iii: Gods And False Gods: Lxviii Poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

THE SAME CONTINUED
Again Love left you. With appealing eyes
You watched him go, and lips apart to speak.
He left you, and once more the sun did rise
And the sun set, and week trod close on week
And month on month, till you had reached the goal
Of forty years, and life's full waters grew
To bitterness and flooded all your soul,
Making you loathe old things and pine for new.
And you into the wilderness had fled,
And in your desolation loud did cry,
``Oh for a hand to turn these stones to bread!''
Then in your ear Love whispered scornfully,
``Thou too, poor fool, thou, even thou,'' he said,
``Shalt taste thy little honey ere thou die.''