“Please God that night, dear night, should never cease, Nor that my love should parted be from me, Nor watch cry ‘Dawn’—Ah dawn that slayeth peace! Ah God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon! “Fair friend and sweet, thy lips! Our lips again Lo, in the meadow there the birds give song! Ours be the love and Jealousy’s the pain! Ah God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon! “Sweet friend and fair, take we our joy again Down in the garden, where the birds are loud, Till the warder’s reed astrain Cry God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon! “Of that sweet wind that comes from Far-Away Have I drunk deep of my Belovèd’s breath, Yea! of my Love’s that is so dear and gay. Ah God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon!” _Envoi_ Fair is this damsel and right courteous, And many watch her beauty’s gracious ways. Her heart toward love is no wise traitorous. Ah God! Ah God! That dawn should come so soon! LAUDANTES I When your beauty is grown old in all men’s songs, And my poor words are lost amid that throng, Then you will know the truth of my poor words, And mayhap dreaming of the wistful throng That hopeless sigh your praises in their songs, You will think kindly then of these mad words. II I am torn, torn with thy beauty, O Rose of the sharpest thorn! O Rose of the crimson beauty, Why hast thou awakened the sleeper? Why hast thou awakened the heart within me, O Rose of the crimson thorn? III The unappeasable loveliness is calling to me out of the wind, And because your name is written upon the ivory doors, The wave in my heart is as a green wave, unconfined, Tossing the white foam toward you; And the lotus that pours Her fragrance into the purple cup Is more to be gained with the foam Than are you with these words of mine. IV _He speaks to the moonlight concerning the Belovèd._ Pale hair that the moon has shaken Down over the dark breast of the sea, O magic her beauty has shaken About the heart of me; Out of you have I woven a dream That shall walk in the lonely vale Betwixt the high hill and the low hill, Until the pale stream Of the souls of men quench and grow still. V _Voices speaking to the sun._ Red leaf that art blown upward and out and over The green sheaf of the world, And through the dim forest and under The shadowed arches and the aisles, We, who are older than thou art, Met and remembered when his eyes beheld her In the garden of the peach-trees, In the day of the blossoming. VI I stood on the hill of Yrma when the winds were a-hurrying, With the grasses a-bending I followed them, Through the brown grasses of Ahva unto the green of Asedon.