Dirge for Aoine and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

So I have harvested my womanhood
Into one tall green bush of southernwood;
And if the leaves are green about your feet,
And if my fragrance on a day should meet
And brace your weariness, why, not in vain
Shall I have husbanded from sun and rain
My spices if you chance to find them sweet.

I have grown up beneath the sheltering shade
Of roses: roses' poignant scents have made
My sharp spice sweeter than 't was wont to be.
Therefore if any vagrant gather me
And wear me in his bosom, I will give
Him dreams of roses; he shall dream and live,
And wake to find the rose a verity.

Gather me, gather. I have dreams to sell.
The sea is not by any fluted shell
More faithfully remembered than I keep
My thought of roses, through beguiling sleep
And the bewildering day. I 'll give to him
Who gathers me more sweetness than he 'd dream
Without me—more than any lily could;
I that am flowerless, being southernwood.