The Great Hunt

I cannot tell you now,
When the wind’s drive and whirl 
Blow me along no longer,
And the wind’s a whisper at last— 
Maybe I'll tell you then- 
                                     some Other time 

When the rose’s flash to the sunset 
Reels to the rack and the twist,
And the rose is a red bygone,
When the face I love is going 
And the gate to the end shall clang,
And it’s no use to beckon or say, "So long"— 
Maybe I’ll tell you then-
                                      some other time 

I never knew any more beautiful than you 
I have hunted you under my thoughts, 
I have broken down under the wind 
And into the roses looking for you 
I shall never find any 
                                     greater than you