  HATH any loved you well down there, Summer or winter through? Down there, have you found any fair Laid in the grave with you? Is death’s long kiss a richer kiss Than mine was wont to be? Or have you gone to some far bliss, And quite forgotten me? What soft enamouring of sleep Hath you in some soft way? What charmed death holdeth you with deep Strange lure by night and day? A little space below the grass, Out of the sun and shade; But worlds away from me, alas! Down there where you are laid! My bright hair’s waved and wasted gold, What is it now to thee Whether the rose-red life I hold Or white death holdeth me? Down there you love the grave’s own green, And evermore you rave Of some sweet seraph you have seen Or dreamed of in the grave. There you shall lie as you have lain, Though in the world above Another live your life again, Loving again your love; Is it not sweet beneath the palm? Is not the warm day rife With some long mystic golden calm Better than love and life? The broad quaint odorous leaves, like hands Weaving the fair day through, Weave sleep no burnished bird withstands, While death weaves sleep for you; And many a strange rich breathing sound Ravishes morn and noon; And in that place you must have found Death a delicious swoon. Hold me no longer for a word I used to say or sing; Ah! long ago you must have heard So many a sweeter thing: For rich earth must have reached your heart, And turned the faith to flowers; And warm wind stolen, part by part, Your soul through faithless hours. And many a soft seed must have won Soil of some yielding thought, To bring a bloom up to the sun That else had ne’er been brought; And doubtless many a passionate hue Hath made that place more fair, Making some passionate part of you Faithless to me down there. |
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