Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say, <br />Though late it be, though lily-time be past, <br />Though all the summer skies be overcast, <br />Haply I will go down to her, some day, <br />And cast my rests of life before her feet, <br />That she may have her will of me, being so sweet <br />And none gainsay! <br /> <br />So might she look on me with pitying eyes, <br />And lay calm hands of healing on my head: <br />'_Because of thy long pains be comforted; <br />For I, even I, am Love: sad soul, arise!_' <br />So, for her graciousness, I might at last <br />Gaze on the very face of Love, and hold Him fast <br />In no disguise. <br /> <br />Haply, I said, she will take pity on me, <br />Though late I come, long after lily-time, <br />With burden of waste days and drifted rhyme: <br />Her kind, calm eyes, down drooping maidenly, <br />Shall change, grow soft: there yet is time, meseems, <br />I said, for solace; though I know these things are dreams <br />And may not be!<br /><br />Ernest Christopher Dowson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/vain-hope/
