IN CLOAK OF GREY
I
Love's a pilgrim, cloaked in grey,
And his feet are pierced and bleeding:
Have ye seen him pass this way
Sorrowfully pleading?
Ye that weep the world away,
Have ye seen King Love to-day?—
II
Yea, we saw him; but he came
Poppy-crowned and white of limb!
Song had touched his lips with flame,
And his eyes were drowsed and dim;
And we kissed the hours away
Till night grew rosier than the day.—
III
Hath he left you?—Yea, he left us
A little while ago,
Of his laughter quite bereft us
And his limbs of snow;
We know not why he went away
Who ruled our revels yesterday.—
IV