Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/53

O lover, fear not—have thou joy;
  For life and love are in thy hands:
I seek in no wise to destroy
  The peace thou hast, nor make the sands
Run quicker through thy pleasant span;
Blest art thou above many a man,
  And fair is She who with thee stands:

I only keep for thee out here—
  O far away, as thou hast said,
Among the willow trees—a clear
  Soft space for slumber, and a bed;
That after all, if life be vain,
And love turn at the last to pain,
  Thou mayst have ease when thou art dead.

O grieve not: back to thy love's lips
  Let her embrace thee more and more,
Consume that sweet of hers in sips:
  I only wait till it is o'er;
For fear thou'lt weary of her kiss,
And come to need a bed like this
  Where none shall kiss thee evermore.