The Ballade of Lovelace
My days for singing and loving are over
And stark I lie in my narrow bed,
I care not at all if roses cover
Or if above me the snow is spread;
I am weary of dreaming of my sweet dead—
Vera and Lily and Annie and May,
And my soul is set on the present fray,
Its piercing kisses and subtle snares:
So gallants are conquered, ah wellaway,
My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs.
O happy moths that now flit and hover
From the blossom of white to the blossom of red,
Take heed, for I was a lordly lover
Till the little day of my life had sped;
As straight as a pine tree, a golden head,
And eyes as blue as an austral bay.
Ladies when loosing your satin array,
Reflect, in my years had you lived my prayers
Might have won you from weakly lovers away.
My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs.
Through the song of the thrush and the pipe of the plover
Sweet voices come down through the binding lead;
O queens that every age must discover
For men, that Man’s delight may be fed;
Oh, sister queens to the queens I wed
For the space of a year, a month, a day,
No thirst but mine could your thirst allay;
And oh, for an hour of life, my dears,
To kiss you, to laugh at your lovers’ dismay,—
My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs.
Envoi.
Prince was I ever of festival gay,
And time never silvered my locks with grey;
The love of your lovers is as hope that despairs,
So think of me sometimes dear ladies I pray,
My love was stronger and fiercer than theirs.
George Moore.