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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - Love Is Master Still
Work rating: Low

Since that it may not be,
 The thing my soul desires,
 And that Love`s tenderer fires
 Are doomed to loss and Time`s sterility,
 Ours be it this one day
 Flowers at Love`s feet to lay,
 For Love is master still, or be we bond or free.

 We may not quite be blest.
 Time`s treasure is too great,
 And ours too weak a fate,
 And Joy burns low, a sun--flame in the West.
 Night comes, the while we stand
 Forlornly hand in hand,
 And then the tears begin, the dreams that have no rest.

 Yet, since it may not be,
 And Love can not be wise,
 And in each other`s eyes
 We still must seek Time`s lost felicity,
 Ours be it this last day
 Flowers on Love`s grave to lay,
 For Love is master still, or be we bond or free.
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