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Edith Nesbit - The Appeal
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ALL summer-time you said: 
"Love has no need of shelter nor of kindness, 
For all the flowers take pity on his blindness, 
    And lead him to his scented rose-soft bed." 


    "He is a king," you said. 
"That I bow not the knee will never grieve him, 
For all the summer-palaces receive him." 
    But now Love has not where to lay his head. 


    "He is a god," you said. 
"His altars are wherever roses blossom." 
And summer made his altar of her bosom, 
    But now the altar is ungarlanded.


    Take back the words you said: 
Out in the rain he shivers broken-hearted; 
Summer who bore him has with tears departed, 
    And o`er her grave he weeps uncomforted. 


    And you, for all you said, 
Would weep too, if when dawn stills the wind`s riot, 
You found him on your threshold, pale and quiet, 
    Clasped him at last, and found the child was dead.
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