Thou whose beauty Knows no duty Due to love that moves thee never; Thou whose mercies
Are men's curses, And thy smile a scourge for ever; Thou that givest Death and livest
On the death of thy sweet giving; Thou that sparest Not nor carest Though thy scorn leave no love living;
Thou whose rootless Flower is fruitless As the pride its heart encloses, But thine eyes are
As May skies are, And thy words like spoken roses; Thou whose grace is In men's faces
Fierce and wayward as thy will is; Thou whose peerless Eyes are tearless, And thy thoughts as cold sweet lilies;
Thou that takest Hearts and makest Wrecks of loves to strew behind thee, Whom the swallow
Sure should follow, Finding summer where we find thee; Thou that wakest Hearts and breakest,
And thy broken hearts forgive thee, That wilt make no Pause and take no Gift that love for love might give thee;
Thou that bindest Eyes and blindest, Serving worst who served thee longest; Thou that speakest,
And the weakest Heart is his that was the strongest; Take in season Thought with reason;
Think what gifts are ours for giving; Hear what beauty Owes of duty To the love that keeps it living.
Dust that covers Long dead lovers Song blows off with breath that brightens; At its flashes
Their white ashes Burst in bloom that lives and lightens. Had they bent not Head or lent not
Ear to love and amorous duties, Song had never Saved for ever, Love, the least of all their beauties.
All the golden Names of olden Women yet by men's love cherished, All our dearest
Thoughts hold nearest, Had they loved not, all had perished. If no fruit is Of thy beauties,
Tell me yet, since none may win them, What and wherefore Love should care for Of all good things hidden in them?
Pain for profit Comes but of it, If the lips that lure their lover's Hold no treasure
Past the measure Of the lightest hour that hovers. If they give not Or forgive not
Gifts or thefts for grace or guerdon, Love that misses Fruit of kisses Long will bear no thankless burden.
If they care not Though love were not, If no breath of his burn through them, Joy must borrow
Song from sorrow, Fear teach hope the way to woo them. Grief has measures Soft as pleasure's,
Fear has moods that hope lies deep in, Songs to sing him, Dreams to bring him, And a red-rose bed to sleep in.
Hope with fearless Looks and tearless Lies and laughs too near the thunder; Fear hath sweeter
Speech and meeter For heart's love to hide him under. Joy by daytime Fills his playtime
Full of songs loud mirth takes pride in; Night and morrow Weave round sorrow Thoughts as soft as sleep to hide in.
Graceless faces, Loveless graces, Are but motes in light that quicken, Sands that run down
Ere the sundown, Roseleaves dead ere autumn sicken. Fair and fruitless Charms are bootless
Spells to ward off age's peril; Lips that give not Love shall live not, Eyes that meet not eyes are sterile.
But the beauty Bound in duty Fast to love that falls off never Love shall cherish
Lest it perish, And its root bears fruit for ever.
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