 | Fand and Other Poems |  |
Strange was the thought her words aroused.
What if 'twere better that he went with her?
I could not yet endure it: “why,” I sobbed,
“Why do you envy us our best,
Why pluck from us our hero-flowers,
To make more rich the airs of heaven,
Leaving our scentless gardens desolate?
Nay, and this too may be,
The flower, that men the sweetest deem,
May, in that rarer atmosphere
The gods inhale, prove odourless:
What need of hero's strength have they,
What care for man's achievement?”
What if 'twere better that he went with her?
I could not yet endure it: “why,” I sobbed,
“Why do you envy us our best,
Why pluck from us our hero-flowers,
13
Leaving our scentless gardens desolate?
Nay, and this too may be,
The flower, that men the sweetest deem,
May, in that rarer atmosphere
The gods inhale, prove odourless:
What need of hero's strength have they,
What care for man's achievement?”
| Fand and Other Poems | |