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KINDRED
195
Nightshade lightly plucked unknowing,
Roses fondly twined with rue,
Harvestings of mine own sowing,
And from fields I never knew!
I have gained mid loss and capture
Strength not found in vanquishing,
Sharing oft the mounting rapture,
Trailing oft the broken wing;
Kindred with the sunlight streaming
Where nor dew nor rain-drop gleams,
With the parchèd desert dreaming
Incommunicable dreams,
Laid in cavern-bed at even,
Throned on rose-flushed Apennine—
Multitudinous earth and heaven,
Naught ye hold that is not mine!
