The House of Life: VI. Love's Last Gift

Love to his singer held a glistening leaf

And said: The rose-tree and the apple-tree

Have fruits to vaunt or flowers to lure the bee

And golden shafts are in the feathered sheaf

Of the great harvest-marshal, the year's chief

Victorious Summer aye, and 'neath warm sea

Strange secret grasses lurk inviolably

Between the filtering channels of sunk reef

All are my blooms and all sweet blooms of love

To thee I gave while Spring and Summer sang

But Autumn stops to listen, with some pang

From those worse things the wind is moaning of

Only this laurel dreads no winter days

Take my last gift thy heart hath sung my praise