Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/53

 O lover, fear not—have thou joy; For life and love are in thy hands: I seek in no wise to destroy The peace thou hast, nor make the sands Run quicker through thy pleasant span; Blest art thou above many a man, And fair is She who with thee stands:

I only keep for thee out here— O far away, as thou hast said, Among the willow trees—a clear Soft space for slumber, and a bed; That after all, if life be vain, And love turn at the last to pain, Thou mayst have ease when thou art dead.

O grieve not: back to thy love's lips Let her embrace thee more and more, Consume that sweet of hers in sips: I only wait till it is o'er; For fear thou'lt weary of her kiss, And come to need a bed like this Where none shall kiss thee evermore.