  Beauty has come to make no longer stay Than the bright buds of May In May-time do. Beauty is with us for one hour, one hour, Life is so brief a flower; Thoughts are so few. Thoughts are so few with mastery to give Shape to these fugitive Dear brevities, That even in its hour beauty is blind, Because the shallow mind Not sees, not sees. And in the mind of man only can be Alert prosperity For beauty brief. So, what can be but little comes to less Upon the wilderness Of unbelief. And beauty that has but an hour to spend With you for friend, Goes outcast by. But know, but know—for all she is outcast— It is not she at last, But you that die. |
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