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- THE SECRET ROSE
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- FAR-OFF, most secret, and inviolate Rose,
- Enfold me in my hour of hours; where those
- Who sought thee in the Holy Sepulchre,
- Or in the wine-vat, dwell beyond the stir
- And tumult of defeated dreams; and deep
- Among pale eyelids, heavy with the sleep
- Men have named beauty. Thy great leaves enfold
- The ancient beards, the helms of ruby and gold
- Of the crowned Magi; and the king whose eyes
- Saw the pierced Hands and Rood of elder rise
- In Druid vapour and make the torches dim;
- Till vain frenzy awoke and he died; and him
- Who met Fand walking among flaming dew
- By a grey shore where the wind never blew,
- And lost the world and Emer for a kiss;
- And him who drove the gods out of their liss,
- And till a hundred moms had flowered red
- Feasted, and wept the barrows of his dead;
- And the proud dreaming king who flung the crown
- And sorrow away, and calling bard and clown
- Dwelt among wine-stained wanderers in deep woods:
- And him who sold tillage, and house, and goods,
- And sought through lands and islands numberless
- years,
- Until he found, with laughter and with tears,
- A woman of so shining loveliness
- That men threshed corn at midnight by a tress,
- A little stolen tress. I, too, await
- The hour of thy great wind of love and hate.
- When shall the stars be blown about the sky,
- Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?
- Surely thine hour has come, thy great wind blows,
- Far-off, most secret, and inviolate Rose?
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