| Vain Hope |
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Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Though all the summer skies be overcast,
Haply I will go down to her, some day,
And cast my rests of life before her feet,
That she may have her will of me, being so sweet
And none gainsay!
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So might she look on me with pitying eyes,
And lay calm hands of healing on my head:
“Because of thy long pains be comforted;
For I, even I, am Love: sad soul, arise!”
So, for her graciousness, I might at last
Gaze on the very face of Love, and hold Him fast
In no disguise.
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Haply, I said, she will take pity on me,
Though late I come, long after lily-time
With burden of waste days and drifted rhyme;
Her kind, calm eyes, down drooping maidenly,
Shall change, grow soft: there yet is time, meseems,
I said, for solace; though I know these things are dreams
And may not be!
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