The Secret Rose
And him who sold tillage, and house, and goods,
And the proud dreaming king who flung the crown
Of the crowned Magi; and the king whose eyes
Saw the pierced Hands and Rood of elder rise
In Druid vapour and make the torches dim;
The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
By a grey shore where the wind never blew,
Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows,
A little stolen tress. I, too, await
Dwelt among wine-stained wanderers in deep woods:
Enfold mewww.99lib•net in my hour of hours; where those
And sorrow away, and calling bard and clown
The ancient beards, the helms of ruby and gold
Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
That men threshed corn at
九*九*藏*书*网
midnight by a tress,Men have named beauty. Thy great leaves enfold
The Secret Rose
Until he found, with laughter and with tears,
Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
Feasted, and wept the barrows of his dead;
F99lib.netAR-OFF, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
Till vain frenzy awoke and he died; and him
And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
And sought through lands and islands numberless years,
Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
And him who drove the gods 99lib•netout of their liss,
And lost the world and Emer for a kiss;
Who met Fand walking among flaming dew
Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?
A woman of so shining loveliness
Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
And till a hundred moms had flowered red