WHAT can I give to you
Who have given me everything?
Can I rob the sky of its blue?
Can I take the green from the spring?
Can I catch the dew as it falls?
Can I reach the fount of the rain?
Can I snare the foam of the waterfalls
And their rain-bow mist retain?
Can I enter the tombs of kings
And their cerements unbind?
Can I steal the Tetrarch's rings
And Salome's pearls unwind?
Will Helen of Troy give up
The bracelets from her wrist;
Or Iseult restore the cup
That Tristram drained and kissed?
They are gone — they are gone, all these —
And their names, like a small faint rain,
Drift by without surcease
Across time's grievous plain.
Oh, lonely and classic face,
My harbour and heathen heaven,
Can I find nothing to replace
All that to me you've given?
Let these dim shades depart
And their sad faint ghosts go hence.
Out of my heart — my heart —
I will give you your recompense!
For works with similar titles, see The Return.