XXXIII

You who taught the sun his light

And rolled the darkness into night,

Who gave the air her liberty

And curled the currents of the sea;

You who turbaned gentian skies

With clouds of fleecy fineries,

Whose icy vision could impose

Her perfect transcience on a rose;

You who found a baby’s hue

For Heaven; and chose an empty blue

With which to save the infinite

From the bombardment of our sight;

You who taught music how to pry

Into a whisper’s melody,

And gave the sunbeams cause to claim

Shadow as the true home of flame;

You from whom I learnt to bless

The unencumbered loneliness

That love must give and love must take,

You who taught my heart to break

And to cry out, while it was breaking,

“This is not sleeping, this is waking,”

In a mood of mockery

One day you gave myself to me!

Poems(#79624) · 第 47 / 48 题