Excerpt from The Earthly Paradise, Vol. 3: A Poem

O Come at last, to whom the spring-tide"s hope

Looked for through blossoms, what hast thou for me?

Green grows the grass upon the dewy slope

Beneath thy gold-hung, grey-leaved apple-tree

Moveless, e"en as the autumn fain would be

That shades its sad eyes from the rising sun

And weeps at eve because the day is done.

What vision wilt thou give me, autumn morn,

To make thy pensive sweetness more complete?

What tale, ne"er to be told, of folk unborn?

What images of grey-clad damsels sweet

Shall cross thy sward with dainty noiseless feet?

What nameless shamefast longings made alive

Soft-eyed September will thy sad heart give?

Look long, O longing eyes, and look in vain!

Strain idly, aching heart, and yet be wise,

And hope no more for things to come again

That thou beheldest once with careless eyes!

Like a new-wakened man thou art, who tries

To dream again the dream that made him glad

When in his arms his loving love he had.

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