Spring is come home with her world-wandering feet, And all things are made young with your desires.
Francis ThompsonThe fairest things have fleetest end, Their scent survives their close: But the rose's scent is bitterness To him that loved the rose.
Francis ThompsonSo for thy spirit did devise Its Maker seemly garniture, Of its own essence parcel pure.-- From grave simplicities a dress, And reticent demureness, And love encinctured with reserve; Which the woven vesture would subserve. For outward robes in their ostents Should show the soul's habiliments. Therefore I say,--Thou'rt fair even so, But better Fair I use to know.
Francis Thompson