Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle.

This treasure of love, these passion-flowers,
Dear as desire, are dearly bought:
The sweet unrest of seeing you
For some too happy hour or two,
Is paid by such a wealth of tears,
Such grief, such bitterness, such fears,
Such wild remorse, such weak regret,
Such tide of longing towards you set,
As poison all my other hours,
And murder every other thought.

I cannot drink joy steeped in fears,
I choose the cold, unhurtful days;
The roses you hold out to me
Are red and sweet enough to be
A crown one would so gladly wear
If but one's brows were strong to bear
The weight, and did not ache and ache
For the fair coronation's sake,
And dread of coming crownless years
When tired feet shall tread thorny ways.

There is a peace in sombre skies
Where no sun even tries to shine,
But not in these, where transient glow,
And passionate bursts of sunshine show
Only life's dull fields drenched with rain,
And then the clouds set fast again
Into a leaden sky like this is,
Lit by no lightnings of warm kisses,
Whence, while I look into your eyes,
A thunderbolt may fall on mine.

I give you back the rose I stole,
Pluck but pale leaves that near me grow.
I cannot love with half a heart,
'Tis all or nothing for my part;
And since the all may not be ours,
Since we may only pluck Love's flowers,
But may not in his temple stay,
I choose the grey and lonely way—
And you—be thankful from your soul
That, loving you, I let you go.

The garden lay about us twain 
Hoarding its sweets up for the rain; 
We clung together, you and I, 
And heard the minutes hurrying by. 
Heart against heart beat heavily, 
Your eyes through twilight sought for mine, 
My lips drank love from yours like wine. 

Our lips together met and clung — 
Our love stood beautiful and young 
And watched us while the minutes spun 
Webs of delight not yet undone, 
While our lips, kissing, would not part; 
While all the night beat like a heart 
Fuller of fire than any sun; 
And one great star and only one 
Above us for a lantern hung. 

My hand in yours so closely lay, 
I felt your pulse beat like my own; 
I breathed your breath, and in my brain 
The seed of your own thought was sown. 
The garden walls seemed far away,
The scent of flowering mint was blown 
About us in the gloaming gray, 
About us as our lips clung close 
As flash and peal, as bee and rose. 

But flash and peal and cloud were not. 
Twilight and scent for us begot 
Delicate dreams, and for our sake 
No bat, or buzzing chafer came 
The happy silences to break.
We kissed, and to the lighted room 
Came, carrying with us like perfume 
As lovely as the rose's name, 
The memory of the twilight sweet 
In shining eyes and laggard feet.