SINCE that it may not be, The thing my soul desires, And that Love's tenderer fires Are doomed to loss and Time's sterility, Ours be it this one day Flowers at Love's feet to lay, For Love is master still, or be we bond or free. We may not quite be blest. Time's treasure is too great, And ours too weak a fate, And Joy burns low, a sun-flame in the West. Night comes, the while we stand Forlornly hand in hand, And then the tears begin, the dreams that have no rest. Yet, since it may not be, And Love can not be wise, And in each other's eyes We still must seek Time's lost felicity, Ours be it this last day Flowers on Love's grave to lay, For Love is master still, or be we bond or free. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LILAC: FIRST EMOTIONS OF LOVE by ROBERT BURNS THE PAINS OF SLEEP by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 131 by PETRARCH IN PROGRESS by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SYSTEM by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AUTUMN WOODS by ANNA M. ACKERMANN |