Love's Recording

Come, boy, and where the grass is thickest pied,
With robber hand cut the green season's bloom,
Then flinging open armfuls strew the room
With flowers that April bears in her young pride.

Then set my lyre, song's handmaid, by my side —
For if I may, I'll charm away the gloom
That like a poison worketh to consume
My life, through power of beauty undefied.

Then bring me ink and countless papers white —
White paper shall bear witness to my woe,
Whereon the record of this love I'll write.

White paper, that endures when diamond stone
Is worn away, shall bid the ages know
How for love's sake I suffer and make moan.