 | The Mockers and other Verses |  |
I
FROM THE BUSH
This soothly is the maker's grief of old
And evermore: Thou hast seen one brier spray
High in the hedgerow deck a summer's day
With lovely light that wild-rose buds unfold
When half they hide their girdle of faëry gold
Fine wrought: worth well the halting by the way,
The baffled spring, mocked grasp, and long essay,
That here at last have given it to thine hold:
And evermore: Thou hast seen one brier spray
High in the hedgerow deck a summer's day
With lovely light that wild-rose buds unfold
When half they hide their girdle of faëry gold
Fine wrought: worth well the halting by the way,
The baffled spring, mocked grasp, and long essay,
That here at last have given it to thine hold:
Yet show thee how or ever thou couldst forbear
Thy strife with writhen stem and thorny sting,
Full many a pure frail petal unaware
Went fluttering earthward like a white moth-wing,
And all the world might call the remnant fair—
Thou still wouldst mark and mourn each empty ring.
Thy strife with writhen stem and thorny sting,
Full many a pure frail petal unaware
Went fluttering earthward like a white moth-wing,
And all the world might call the remnant fair—
Thou still wouldst mark and mourn each empty ring.
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