The Solace Of Love

IN my heart’s chamber cold in day’s white glare, Sate Love disconsolate with tatter’d wings, And brooding on the memory of lost things That erst made glad those walls, so wan and bare.

Came Hope then unto him and bade him look Upon the brightness of the cloudless hours, And on the buds of yet unopened flowers; But Love, being blind, all blank was nature’s book.

Sleep came to him, and would have brought him peace, But dreams awoke Desire whose torturing flame Made worse his case and left him agony: Till one, with wreathèd brows, for his release, Unto his fingers gave a stringèd frame, And then Love wept, and sang his pain to thee.