William Watson (1858–1935)

THAT beauty such as thine

Should die indeed,

Were ordinance too wantonly malign!

No wit may reconcile so cold a creed

With beauty such as thine.

From wave and star and flower

Some effluence rare

Was lent thee, a divine but transient dower:

Thou yield’st it back from eyes and lips and hair

To wave and star and flower.

Shouldst thou to-morrow die,

Thou still shalt be

Found in the rose and met in all the sky:

And from the ocean’s heart shalt sing to me,

Shouldst thou to-morrow die.