"Sweetheart, save me and you, Where has the summer kist Flowers of as fair a hue, Turkis or Amethyst?" Therewith I laughed aloud, Spake on this wise, "O little flowers so proud, Have ye seen eyes Change through the blue in them,— Change till the mere Loving that grew in them Turned to a tear? "Flowers, ye are bright of hue, Delicate, sweet; Flowers, and the sight of you Lightens men's feet; Yea; but her worth to me, Flowerets, even, Sweetening the earth to me, Sweeteneth heaven. "This, then, O Flowers, I sing; God, when He made ye, Made yet a fairer thing Making my Lady ; A SONG OF ANGIOLA IN HEAVEN. FLOWE "Vale, unica!" LOWERS,-that have died upon my Sweet Of her young bosom under you,— As never, through thick buds of Spring, The Bird whose being no man knows— For lo, —a garden-place I found, Well filled of leaves, and stilled of sound, Well flowered, with red fruit marvellous; My Love I found. Alone she walked,-ah, well I wis, My heart leapt up for joy of this !— Then when I called to her her name,The name, that like a pleasant thing Men's lips remember, murmuring, At once across the sward she came,Full fain she seemed, my own dear maid, And asked ever as she came, "Where hast thou stayed?" "Where hast thou stayed?"—she asked as though The long years were an hour ago; But I spake not, nor answered, For, looking in her eyes, I saw, A light not lit of mortal law; And in her clear cheek's changeless red, And sweet, unshaken speaking found That in this place the Hours were dead, "This is well done," she said," in thee, O Love, that thou art come to me, To this green garden glorious; Now truly shall our life be sped In joyance and all goodlihed, For here all things are fair to us, And none with burden is oppressed, And none is poor or piteous,For here is Rest. 1 |