Xiv

The pungent-breathed petunias Hang riven of the rain; And where the tiger-lily was Now droops a tawny stain; While in the twilight's purple pause Earth dreams of heaven again.

When love sits down to sigh, Where one lies all alone Beneath the sod's green sky-- What boots it then to try, Or to atone?

With ragged petals round its pod The rain-wrecked poppy dies; And where the hectic rose did nod A crumbled crimson lies; While distant as the dreams of God The stars slip in the skies.

When love lies down to sleep, When one is dead and gone-- Within the darkness deep What boots it then to weep? All's said and done.