III
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ove, is it love or sleep or shadow or lightThat lies between thine eyelids and thine eyes?Like a flower laid upon a flower it lies,Or like the night's dew laid upon the night.Love stands upon thy left hand and thy right,Yet by no sunset and by no moonriseShall make thee man and ease a woman's sighs,Or make thee woman for a man's delight.To what strange end hath some strange god made fairThe double blossom of two fruitless flowers?Hid love in all the folds of all thy hair,Fed thee on summers, watered thee with showers,Given all the gold that all the seasons wearTo thee that art a thing of barren hours?
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