The Woman in the Shadow

"Sweet, sweet, sweet," says the greenfinch in the meadow, 
"Sweet" sings the willow-wren as he seeks his mate; 
"Sweet, sweet, sweet," but the woman in the shadow 
Whispers « Wait!" 

"Sweet, sweet, sweet!" cries the south wind at his fleetest, 
Bending down the buttercups in their golden state — 
"Sweet!" but a softer voice than his at sweetest, 
Answers "Wait." 

The bleak wind, the north wind has breathed on the lilies. 
Harried is the wren's nest, wounded goes his mate, 
Where we dreamed of Love himself a veiled shape still is. 
But she's Fate. 

Where's the use of keening? what help in weeping 
When the fair thing, the rare thing lies coffined at our feet. 
But the woman in the shadow from the other side of sleeping 
Whispers "Sweet!"