Love wine and beauty and the spring,
While wine is red and spring is here,
And through the almond blossoms ring
The dove-like voices of thy Dear.
Wine and woman and song,
Three things garnish our way:
Yet is day over long.
All that I had I brought,
Little enough I know;
A poor rhyme roughly wrought,
A rose to match thy snow:
What land of Silence,
Where pale stars shine
And dew-drenched vine,
Erewhile, before the world was old,
When violets grew and celandine,
In Cupid's train we were enrolled:
In your mother's apple-orchard,
Just a year ago, last spring:
Do you remember, Yvonne!
The dear trees lavishing
Cease smiling, Dear! a little while be sad,
Here in the silence, under the wan moon;
Sweet are thine eyes, but how can I be glad,
I the deep violet air,
Not a leaf is stirred;
There is no sound heard,
When this, our rose, is faded,
And these, our days, are done,
In lands profoundly shaded
From tempest and from sun:
Into the lonely park all frozen fast,
Awhile ago there were two forms who passed.