Thy times and ways and words of love, and say
How one was dear and one desirable,

And sweet was life to hear and sweet to smell,
But now with lights reverse the old hours retire
And the last hour is shod with fire from hell.
This is the end of every man's desire.
The burden of four seasons. Rain in spring,
White rain and wind among the tender trees;

A summer of green sorrows gathering,

Rank autumn in a mist of miseries,

that sees

With sad face set towards the year,
The charred ash drop out of the dropping pyre,

And winter wan with many maladies;
This is the end of every man's desire.

The burden of dead faces. Out of sight

And out of love, beyond the reach of hands,
Changed in the changing of the dark and light,
They walk and weep about the barren lands
Where no seed is nor any garner stands,

Where in short breaths the doubtful days respire,
And time's turned glass lets through the sighing

sands;

This is the end of every man's desire.

The burden of much gladness.

Life and lust

Forsake thee, and the face of thy delight; And underfoot the heavy hour strews dust,

And overhead strange weathers burn and bite;

And where the red was, lo the bloodless white, And where truth was, the likeness of a liar,

And where day was, the likeness of the night; This is the end of every man's desire.

L'ENVOY.

Princes, and ye whom pleasure quickeneth,
Heed well this rhyme before your pleasure tire;
For life is sweet, but after life is death.

This is the end of every man's desire.

RONDEL.

K

ISSING her hair I sat against her feet,

Wove and unwove it, wound and found it sweet; Made fast therewith her hands, drew down her eyes, Deep as deep flowers and dreamy like dim skies; With her own tresses bound and found her fair, Kissing her hair.

Sleep were no sweeter than her face to me,
Sleep of cold sea-bloom under the cold sea;

What pain could get between my face and hers?
What new sweet thing would love not relish worse?
Unless, perhaps, white death had kissed me there,
Kissing her hair?

Snowdrops that plead for pardon

And pine for fright

Because the hard East blows

Over their maiden rows

Grow not as this face grows from pale to bright.

Behind the veil, forbidden,

Shut up from sight,

Love, is there sorrow hidden,

Is there delight?

Is joy thy dower or grief,

White rose of weary leaf,

Late rose whose life is brief, whose loves are light?

Soft snows that hard winds harden

Till each flake bite

Fill all the flowerless garden

Whose flowers took flight

Long since when summer ceased,

And men rose up from feast,

And warm west wind grew east, and warm day night.

II.

"Come snow, come wind or thunder

High up in air,

I watch my face, and wonder

At my bright hair;

Nought else exalts or grieves

The rose at heart, that heaves

With love of her own leaves and lips that pair.

"She knows not loves that kissed her

She knows not where,

Art thou the ghost, my sister,

White sister there,

Am I the ghost, who knows?

My hand, a fallen rose,

Lies snow-white on white snows, and takes no care.

"I cannot see what pleasures

Or what pains were ;