Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
William Morris 183496From The Earthly Paradise. V. Song: to Psyche
Morris-WmO
Who turnest pale e’en at the name of love,
And with flush’d face must pass the elm-tree by
Asham’d to hear the passionate gray dove
Moan to his mate, thee too the god shall move,
Thee too the maidens shall ungird one day,
And with thy girdle put thy shame away.
Because the glittering frosty morn is fair?
Because against the early-setting sun
Bright show the gilded boughs though waste and bare?
Because the robin singeth free from care?
Ah! these are memories of a better day
When on earth’s face the lips of summer lay.
Love loveth, and their hearts he knoweth well,
Who hoard their moments of felicity,
As misers hoard the medals that they tell,
Lest on the earth but paupers they should dwell:
“We hide our love to bless another day;
The world is hard, youth passes quick,” they say.
Amidst your outpour’d love that you must die,
Then ye, my servants, were death’s conquerors yet,
And love to you should be eternity
How quick soever might the days go by:
Yes, ye are made immortal on the day
Ye cease the dusty grains of time to weigh.
Thou art beloved, but as thy wont is
Turn thy gray eyes away from eyes of men,
With hands down-dropp’d, that tremble with thy bliss,
With hidden eyes, take thy first lover’s kiss;
Call this eternity which is to-day,
Nor dream that this our love can pass away.