 | Wild honey from various thyme |  |
123
BEING FREE
Belovèd, I shall speak of thee no more:It is thy freedom now that thou art dead.
By speech we are not bound as heretofore,
For thou dost come the way that God doth tread,
Through the great solitudes that lovers use:
With spring and star-break, where deep music is,
After long, lashing storms we interfuse,
And Life requires no more that Lachesis
Sing to her of the Past. Nay, we are free,
Profuse, delicious, giving each to each
Love that we dared not give to memory
To be the guardian of, or trust to speech,
The kindling certitude of lip or eye:
Love one can only taste, Death standing by.
| Wild honey from various thyme | |