The Great Hunt

 I cannot tell you now;
 When the wind's drive and whirl
 Blow me along no longer,
 And the wind's a whisper at last--
Maybe I'll tell you then--
 some other time.


 When the rose's flash to the sunset
 Reels to the rack and the twist,
 And the rose is a red bygone,
 When the face I love is going
 And the gate to the end shall clang,
 And it's no use to beckon or say, "So long"--
Maybe I'll tell you then--
 some other time.


I never knew any more beautiful than you:
 I have hunted you under my thoughts,
 I have broken down under the wind
 And into the roses looking for you.

 I shall never find any
 greater than you.

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