Dedication

Love owes tribute unto Death,     Being but a flower of breath,     Ev'n as thy fair body is     Moment's figure of the bliss     Dwelling in the mind of God     When He called thee from the sod,     Like a crocus up to start,     Gray-eyed with a golden heart,     Out of earth, and point our sight     To thy eternal home of light.     Here on earth is all we know:     To let our love as steadfast blow,     Open-hearted to the sun,     Folded down when our day's done,     As thy flower that bids it be     Flower of thy charity.     'Tis not ours to boast or pray     Breath from us shall outlive clay;     'Tis not thine, thou Pitiful,     Set me task beyond my rule.     Yet as young men carve on trees     Lovely names, and find in these     Solace in the after time,     So to have hid thee in my rhyme     Shall be comfort when I take     The lonely road. Then, for my sake,     Keep thou this my graven sigh,     And, that I may not all die,     Open it, and hear it tell,     Here was one who loved thee well.     October 6, 1912.