Flower and Fruit
Why did I not know thee, instead of flowers and mountains?
Thy voice is sweeter far than voice of the old fountains:
Thou hast a tenderer charm
Than all the dreams of bliss Youth worshipped as he wandered
Along the flower-hung roads, and sang of love, and pondered.
White were the waves. But whiter is thine arm.
Why did I not know thee, instead of wooing sadness?
Why did I not woo thee, and, wooing thee, woo gladness
And infinite delight?
If I had only known that thou wast waiting—Known it!
If I by but one hint had only once been shown it!—
But God keeps all his best gifts out of sight.
And now I see thy face revealed with sudden splendour,
And all the pent-up love of the long years I render
And homage absolute.
But is it, love, too late? Will God who kept the flower
Waiting through year on year till this triumphant hour
Hold back from me the more triumphant fruit?
Thy voice is sweeter far than voice of the old fountains:
Thou hast a tenderer charm
Than all the dreams of bliss Youth worshipped as he wandered
Along the flower-hung roads, and sang of love, and pondered.
White were the waves. But whiter is thine arm.
Why did I not know thee, instead of wooing sadness?
Why did I not woo thee, and, wooing thee, woo gladness
And infinite delight?
If I had only known that thou wast waiting—Known it!
If I by but one hint had only once been shown it!—
But God keeps all his best gifts out of sight.
And now I see thy face revealed with sudden splendour,
And all the pent-up love of the long years I render
And homage absolute.
But is it, love, too late? Will God who kept the flower
Waiting through year on year till this triumphant hour
Hold back from me the more triumphant fruit?
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.