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176

SONNET XVI
THE WORLD'S MARRIAGE MORN

The world is young.—Her eyes are girlish still,
And girlish calm on her white brows is set:—
Her marriage midday rapture tarrieth yet
Beyond that farthest faintly-outlined hill.
Not for our keen desire or urgent will
The world will wear her jewelled coronet;
To plan that crown a thousand hearts have met;
It mocks each single craftsman's noblest skill.
We shall not see it. 'Mid the morning mist
And 'mid the dewy morning grass we stand:
The world's soft girlish mouth our mouths have kissed,
And we have held her white unwedded hand:—
But ah! the rich mature lips tarry long
For other seasons, and another song.