Poor the pleasure Doled out by measure, Sweet though it be, while brief As falling of the leaf;
Poor is pleasure By weight and measure. Sweet the sorrow Which ends to-morrow;
Sharp though it be and sore, It ends for evermore: Zest of sorrow, What ends to-morrow.
“ONE FOOT ON SEA, AND ONE ON SHORE.” “Oh tell me once and tell me twice And tell me thrice to make it plain, When we who part this weary day,
When we who part shall meet again.” “When windflowers blossom on the sea And fishes skim along the plain, Then we who part this weary day,
Then you and I shall meet again.” “Yet tell me once before we part, Why need we part who part in pain? If flowers must blossom on the sea,
Why, we shall never meet again. “My cheeks are paler than a rose, My tears are salter than the main, My heart is like a lump of ice
If we must never meet again.” “Oh weep or laugh, but let me be, And live or die, for all's in vain; For life's in vain since we must part,
And parting must not meet again “Till windflowers blossom on the sea, And fishes skim along the plain; Pale rose of roses let me be,
Your breaking heart breaks mine again.”
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