Assumption I A mile of moonlight and the whispering wood: A mile of shadow and the odorous lane: One large, white star above the solitude, Like one sweet wish: and, laughter after pain, Wild-roses wistful in a web of rain. II No star, no rose, to lesson him and lead; No woodsman compass of the skies and rocks,— Tattooed of stars and lichens,—doth love need To guide him where, among the hollyhocks, A blur of moonlight, gleam his sweetheart's locks. III We name it beauty—that permitted part, The love-elected apotheosis Of Nature, which the god within the heart, Just touching, makes immortal, but by this— A star, a rose, the memory of a kiss. |
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