“THERE is a budding morrow in midnight:”— <br />So sang our Keats, our English nightingale. <br />And here, as lamps across the bridge turn pale <br />In London's smokeless resurrection-light, <br />Dark breaks to dawn. But o'er the deadly blight <br />Of Love deflowered and sorrow of none avail, <br />Which makes this man gasp and this woman quail, <br />Can day from darkness ever again take flight? <br />Ah! gave not these two hearts their mutual pledge, <br />Under one mantle sheltered 'neath the hedge <br />In gloaming courtship? And, O God! to-day <br />He only knows he holds her;—but what part <br />Can life now take? She cries in her locked heart,— <br />“Leave me—I do not know you—go away!”<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/found-28/
