Wanting is—what?

Wanting is—what? Summer redundant, Blueness abundant, —Where is the blot? Beamy the world, yet a blank all the same —Framework which waits for a picture to frame: What of the leafage, what of the flower? Roses embowering with nought they embower! Come then, complete incompletion, O comer, Pant through the blueness, perfect the summer! Breathe but one breath Rose-beauty above, And all that was death Grows life, grows love, Grows love!