WHY do you live in shadows and sighs,
'Mid waving grasses and faint, faint scents
'Mid floating murmurs and mysteries,
And the ghosts of roses? Arise! Go hence!
"Go hence and wrestle beneath the sun!
Go hence and live before you die!
For laurels, not roses, the race is run.
In the great arena under the sky.
"Go hence! Or my God, the Lord of Hosts,
Will put it into my heart to smite
You and your roses that smell lie ghosts
Into the everlasting night!"
"Smite on, dear heart. The eternal night
Will cover me with shadows and sighs;
And, like one great rose, the Infinite
Will hide me forever from your eyes!"