Page:Poems, Emerson, 1847.djvu/155

Rh Cling with life to the maid;

But when the surprise,

First vague shadow of surmise

Flits across her bosom young

Of a joy apart from thee,

Free be she, fancy-free;

Nor thou detain her vesture's hem,

Nor the palest rose she flung

From her summer diadem.

Though thou loved her as thyself,

As a self of purer clay,

Though her parting dims the day,

Stealing grace from all alive;

Heartily know,

When half-gods go,

The gods arrive.