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76
LOVE AND DEATH
Love on a summer day,
Faint with heat,
And tired of play,
Came to a grotto fair,
And courted slumber there,
And flung his darts away.
Faint with heat,
And tired of play,
Came to a grotto fair,
And courted slumber there,
And flung his darts away.
This was, the Fable saith,
The very cave of Death,
But this Love did not know.
As he had sped a shaft
With more than common craft,
Once, in his sleep, he laughed,
At dawn he rose to go.
The very cave of Death,
But this Love did not know.
As he had sped a shaft
With more than common craft,
Once, in his sleep, he laughed,
At dawn he rose to go.
Love was at parting fain
To have his darts again:—
O Love, beware, beware,
The shafts of Death are there,
Of mortal man the bane.
To have his darts again:—
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The shafts of Death are there,
Of mortal man the bane.
But Love cared not a stiver;
Intent on human hearts,
He gathered to his quiver
His own with Death's black darts;
And glorious in the morning
He winged his golden way;
Fair maidens had forewarning
That Love was on the way.
Strong men, their labour scorning,
Did nothing all that day,
For dallying with a maiden
Is neither work nor play.
Old men and women saddened
In the dragging of the years,
All on a sudden gladdened
To laughter and to tears.
Intent on human hearts,
He gathered to his quiver
His own with Death's black darts;
And glorious in the morning
He winged his golden way;
Fair maidens had forewarning
That Love was on the way.
Strong men, their labour scorning,
Did nothing all that day,
For dallying with a maiden
Is neither work nor play.
Old men and women saddened
In the dragging of the years,
All on a sudden gladdened
To laughter and to tears.
Love was on earth again,
Intending ill to none,
(He wotted not of pain,
Blind creature of the sun).
Not knowing what he did,
And restless, till 'twas done,
Both young and old
He rushed amid
And shot his arrows
Every one.
Intending ill to none,
(He wotted not of pain,
Blind creature of the sun).
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And restless, till 'twas done,
Both young and old
He rushed amid
And shot his arrows
Every one.
And some cried out, ‘'Tis Death he deals,’—
And surely Death did come.
But others cried, ‘'Tis Love, 'tis Love’—
And Love there was for some.
And surely Death did come.
But others cried, ‘'Tis Love, 'tis Love’—
And Love there was for some.
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