HER LOVE
I TOOK the love you threw away
When the moon was full;
When in the river the full moon lay
And the river-reeds were hushed in their play
And gave their souls to the moon,
And whispered and cried, "Ah, well-away!
Today must turn into yesterday
And the moon must wither and fade away,
The beautiful full moon!"
I took the love that you had scorned.
Where it lay in that cold reed-bed.
Took it when the morning dawned,
Making the river red.
"Behold, in spite of her bitter scorn,
In spite of the blood spilt by the dawn,
That love is mine," I said.
And now when the moon is old
And the sun, all burning gold.
Scorches the city street;
Now when the river is dried
And the reeds have drooped and died,
Your love is a fountain sweet;
