 | Leaves of life |  |
99
AN APPEAL.
Dear, do not die!
Of cypresses and grassy graves sing I!
I hang with wreaths of song death's grief-grown cross,
And weep to music for life's infinite loss,
And make the sweetest song of sharpest woe;
I know the way, because I love you so.
If you died, what more could be sung or said?
I could not sing of death if you were dead.
Of cypresses and grassy graves sing I!
I hang with wreaths of song death's grief-grown cross,
And weep to music for life's infinite loss,
And make the sweetest song of sharpest woe;
I know the way, because I love you so.
If you died, what more could be sung or said?
I could not sing of death if you were dead.
Dear, do not love!
Do not love me! Keep still aloof, above!
While you and love in far-off glory stand,
Clear sounds the voice, and harp responds to hand.
But, if you loved me—if you came quite near,
And set love 'mid life's common things and dear,
Mute would the song be—love would be too fair
To waste upon the wide world's empty air
And, songless, I should droop and vainly pine—
I could not sing of love if you were mine.
Do not love me! Keep still aloof, above!
While you and love in far-off glory stand,
Clear sounds the voice, and harp responds to hand.
But, if you loved me—if you came quite near,
And set love 'mid life's common things and dear,
Mute would the song be—love would be too fair
To waste upon the wide world's empty air
And, songless, I should droop and vainly pine—
I could not sing of love if you were mine.
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