Августа Вебстер (Augusta Webster)

My Loss

IN the world was one green nook I knew,
   Full of roses, roses red and white,
Reddest roses summer ever grew,
Whitest roses ever pearled with dew;
   And their sweetness was beyond delight,
Was all love's delight.

Wheresoever in the world I went,
   Roses were; for in my heart I took
Blow and blossom and bewildering scent;
Roses never with the summer spent,
   Roses always ripening in that nook,
Love's far summer nook.

In the world a soddened plot I know
   Blackening in this chill and misty air,
Set with shivering bushes in a row,
One by one the last leaves letting go:
   Wheresoe'er I turn I shall be there,
Always sighing there.

Ah, my folly! Ah, my loss, my pain!
   Dead, my roses that can blow no more!
Wherefore looked I on our nook again?
Wherefore went I after autumn's rain,
   Where the summer roses bloomed before,
Bloomed so sweet before?

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