 | Orchids |  |
37
A LOVER'S CONSOLATION
Among the garden walks of Proserpine,
Love, I will wait for you until your eyes
Are wearied of the sad monotonous skies,
And till you have drained the last cup of life's wine.
You bade me wait since to this love of mine
Might no responsive love within you rise.
I waited long: and now being one who dies,
Go hence to linger at a duskier shrine.
Love, I will wait for you until your eyes
Are wearied of the sad monotonous skies,
And till you have drained the last cup of life's wine.
You bade me wait since to this love of mine
Might no responsive love within you rise.
I waited long: and now being one who dies,
Go hence to linger at a duskier shrine.
I had no will but yours; I gave to you
My life, albeit for all that I could do
You would not have me call you more than friend.
Of this I am glad—that while we drew life's breath
We trod the same sad earth, and after death
Shall be united in a common end.
My life, albeit for all that I could do
You would not have me call you more than friend.
Of this I am glad—that while we drew life's breath
We trod the same sad earth, and after death
Shall be united in a common end.
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