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The Book of Joy is such a book as mine,
A book of rose-leaves smelling all of wine,
Beware the honey of its simple page—
It hath o'ertaken stronger heads than thine.
True wine has many meanings more than wine,
True wine will even warn us against wine—
Any intoxication of the soul,
Yea! or the senses, is the angel Wine.
If only this green world might last for ever,
And love be love, and wine be wine for ever!
Eternal Rose of the Eternal Spring,
Would that mine eyes might burn on thee for ever.
In all those star-cold heavens shall we find
Another home, so safe, so green and kind?
O gentle earth, methinks my heart will break
At the mere thought of leaving you behind.
95
