Robert Graves

The Finding of Love

Pale at first and cold,
Like wizard’s lily—bloom
Conjured from the gloom,
Like torch of glow—worm seen
Through grasses shining green
By children half in fright,
Or Christmas candelelight
Flung on the outer snow,
Or tinsel stars that show
Their evening glory
With sheen of fairy story—
 
 
Now with his blaze
Love dries the cobweb maze
Dew—sagged upon the corn,
He brings the flowering thorn,
Mayfly and butterfly,
And pigeons in the sky,
Robin and thrush,
And the long bulrush,
The cherry under the leaf,
Earth in a silken dress,
With end to grief,
With joy in steadfastness.

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