If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather, Blown fields or flowerful closes, Green pleasure or grey grief; If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf.
If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune, With double sound and single Delight our lips would mingle, With kisses glad as birds are That get sweet rain at noon; If I were what the words are, And love were like the tune.
If you were life, my darling, And I your love were death, We'd shine and snow together Ere March made sweet the weather With daffodil and starling And hours of fruitful breath; If you were life, my darling, And I your love were death.
If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy, We'd play for lives and seasons With loving looks and treasons And tears of night and morrow And laughs of maid and boy; If you were thrall to sorrow, And I were page to joy.
If you were April's lady, And I were lord in May, We'd throw with leaves for hours And draw for days with flowers, Till day like night were shady And night were bright like day; If you were April's lady, And I were lord in May.
If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain, We'd hunt down love together, Pluck out his flying-feather, And teach his feet a measure, And find his mouth a rein; If you were queen of pleasure, And I were king of pain.
_Ave Faustina Imperatrix, morituri te salutant._
Lean back, and get some minutes' peace; Let your head lean Back to the shoulder with its fleece Of locks, Faustine.
The shapely silver shoulder stoops, Weighed over clean With state of splendid hair that droops Each side, Faustine.
Let me go over your good gifts That crown you queen; A queen whose kingdom ebbs and shifts Each week, Faustine.
Bright heavy brows well gathered up: White gloss and sheen; Carved lips that make my lips a cup To drink, Faustine,
Wine and rank poison, milk and blood, Being mixed therein Since first the devil threw dice with God For you, Faustine.
Your naked new-born soul, their stake, Stood blind between; God said "let him that wins her take And keep Faustine."
But this time Satan throve, no doubt; Long since, I ween, God's part in you was battered out; Long since, Faustine.