Mandragora/Her Love

by John Cowper Powys

I TOOK the love you threw away
When the moon was full;
When in the river the full moon lay
And the river-reeds were hushed in their play
   And gave their souls to the moon,
And whispered and cried, "Ah, well-away!
Today must turn into yesterday
And the moon must wither and fade away,
   The beautiful full moon!"

I took the love that you had scorned.
   Where it lay in that cold reed-bed.
Took it when the morning dawned,
   Making the river red.
"Behold, in spite of her bitter scorn,
In spite of the blood spilt by the dawn,
   That love is mine," I said.

And now when the moon is old
And the sun, all burning gold.
   Scorches the city street;
Now when the river is dried
And the reeds have drooped and died,
   Your love is a fountain sweet;

A fountain and a cup!
   And the wretchedest and the worst
Bless God as they drink it up,
   For it quenches their deepest thirst.
And the air of the hottest day
   Grows cool and beautiful,
Because of the love you threw away
   When the moon was full.