Page:Tower of Ivory.djvu/66

50 But last I learned the truth of love, That carnal love the world obeys. 'Tis but a web which Gaea wove With warp of pain and weft of days, Where vast, insensate, o'er the haze Of mortal dreams she has her seat,— A web to catch whom soon she slays. For only dreams of love are sweet.

How fairer than the garnered maize The shadows in the windy wheat, And throstle notes than roundelays. For only dreams of love are sweet.

Lo, the lady Margaret! Cunningly her fingers fret Witcheries in clay. She is Circe, sorceress Mulberries make red her press, Moon-ripe poppy blooms confess Her way.