From "Rose Leaves When the Rose Is Dead"

Mark André Raffalovich

Give me the words of once upon a time,
So long ago your voice is not the same,
Your lips have altered : but the rose trees climb
Still to the window where the morning came
And called himself Delight, that left off name,
And all teh East was noisy all at once.
If to the nesting place the sure bird runs,
If in rose time the rose-trees climb,
Shall we not go back to the red rose nest,
And say that words once sad are best?


Young but not youthful he thou lovest not
Will cease to love thee if thou love not soon:
But he would never weary of thy thought
Did thy hand yield to this very noon.
His love is pure as thy own life is pure,
And passionate as thy dreams are passionate,
And there is none thou canst so much allure,
And non thou couldst so little satiate.
So much beloved, love who loves thee so,
Glad to be chosen to do love's commands,
Beloved be loving also, straightaway go
With gracefull footsteps and with gracious hands,
And pale with pleasure or the sense of doom,
Knock loudly once and enter thy friend's room."
Walter Scott