THREE DAYS
I.
What shall I bring to lay upon thy bier
O Yesterday! thou day forever dead?
With what strange garlands shall I crown thy head,
Thou silent One? For rose and rue are near
Which thou thyself didst bring me; heart's-ease clear.
And dark in purple opulence that shed
Rare odors round; wormwood, and herbs that fed
My soul with bitterness—they all are here!
When to the banquet I was called by thee
Thou gavest me rags and royal robes to wear;
Honey and aloes mingled in the cup
Of costly wine that thou didst pour for me;
Thy throne, thy footstool, thou didst bid me share;
On crusts and heavenly manna bade me sup!
O Yesterday! thou day forever dead?
With what strange garlands shall I crown thy head,
Thou silent One? For rose and rue are near
Which thou thyself didst bring me; heart's-ease clear.
And dark in purple opulence that shed
Rare odors round; wormwood, and herbs that fed
My soul with bitterness—they all are here!
When to the banquet I was called by thee
Thou gavest me rags and royal robes to wear;
Honey and aloes mingled in the cup
Of costly wine that thou didst pour for me;
Thy throne, thy footstool, thou didst bid me share;
On crusts and heavenly manna bade me sup!
II.
Thou art no dreamer, O thou stern To-day!
The dead past had its dreams; the real is thine.
An armored knight, in panoply divine,
It is not thine to loiter by the way,
Though all the meads with summer flowers be gay,
Though birds sing for thee, and though fair stars shine,
And every god pours for thee life's best wine!
Nor friend nor foe hath strength to bid thee stay.
The dead past had its dreams; the real is thine.
An armored knight, in panoply divine,
It is not thine to loiter by the way,
Though all the meads with summer flowers be gay,
Though birds sing for thee, and though fair stars shine,
And every god pours for thee life's best wine!
Nor friend nor foe hath strength to bid thee stay.
