Lilith
By Roy Le Moyne
Ah, Lilith, let us twine these flowers
Around the day’s sweet sanctity
While Love strings all the shining hours
Upon the flesh’s rosary . . . . . .
For things turn back that now are ours
Into a growing yesterday.
Come, let us speak of lovely things
Close to our hearts while yet we may,
For Night shall wrap her star-strewn wings
About us when we go our way . . . . . .
All songs turn back that Love now sings
Into a growing yesterday.
A time comes when the heart is fed
Upon the things we build to-day
And things unfinished and unsaid
Shall rise to scorn, and well they may . . . . . .
Then Love shall stand among the dead
Who haunt the growing yesterday.