IV—WRITTEN ON A FLY-LEAF OF "SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS"
When shall true love be love without alloy—
Shine free at last from sinful circumstance!
When shall the canker of unheavenly chance
Eat not the bud of that most heavenly joy!
When shall true love meet love not as a coy
Retreating light that leads a deathful dance,
But as a firm fixt fire that doth enhance
The beauty of all beauty! Will the employ
Of poets ever be too well to show
That mightiest love with sharpest pain doth writhe;
That underneath the fair, caressing glove
Hides evermore the iron hand; and tho'
Love's flower alone is good, if we would prove
Its perfect bloom, our breath slays like a scythe!
V—"AND WERE THAT BEST!"
And were that best, Love, dreamless, endless sleep!
Gone all the fury of the mortal day—
The daylight gone, and gone the starry ray!
And were that best, Love, rest serene and deep!
Gone labor and desire; no arduous steep
To climb, no songs to sing, no prayers to pray,
No help for those who perish by the way,
No laughter 'mid our tears, no tears to weep!
And were that best, Love, sleep with no dear dream,
Nor memory of anything in life—
Stark death that neither help nor hurt can know!
O, rather, far, the sorrow-bringing gleam,
The living day's long agony and strife!
Rather strong love in pain; the waking woe!
