 | Dirge for Aoine and other poems |  |
xxvii
GIPSY SONG
You are the safe and firelit room,
I am the open wold.
You are the city, and this your doom—
Never to feel the outer cold,
Never to fear the inner dark,
Never to strain the ears and hark
For any foot but the foot of Time,
Never to know a loss worth gain
Or soul that's worth the birthing-pain,
Never to find hill worth the climb
Or joy that may be worth the tear—
My Dear!
I am the open wold.
You are the city, and this your doom—
Never to feel the outer cold,
Never to fear the inner dark,
Never to strain the ears and hark
For any foot but the foot of Time,
Never to know a loss worth gain
Or soul that's worth the birthing-pain,
Never to find hill worth the climb
Or joy that may be worth the tear—
My Dear!
You are shut in from snow and sleet,
I am out in the wind.
My feet are strange to the trodden street
As you are strange to the winds that beat,
The mists that hover and blind.
I cannot stay, you cannot bind:
My hands unclasp and let you go,
As if you were no more than snow
That slips away from me in rain.
I love you, yet our souls are twain,
For I am knowledge, you are fear,
My Dear.
I am out in the wind.
My feet are strange to the trodden street
As you are strange to the winds that beat,
The mists that hover and blind.
I cannot stay, you cannot bind:
My hands unclasp and let you go,
As if you were no more than snow
That slips away from me in rain.
I love you, yet our souls are twain,
For I am knowledge, you are fear,
My Dear.
| Dirge for Aoine and other poems | |