Poems (Piatt)/Volume 1/Life or Love

by Sarah Piatt

LIFE OR LOVE.

"Oh, world so beautiful, could we hide
 Somewhere in your flowers from death?"
A wandering voice in a palace sighed,
 Where the East-rose draws her breath.

"Ah, jewels have passed through yon fires of mine,
 Worth Persia ten times told;
And the essence that makes our dust divine
 Is here in this cup of gold:"

And the Master knelt with a beard that rushed
 To his feet like a storm of snow.
But Youth in his bosom yearned and flushed,
 And Youth in his voice spake low.

Yet the queen lay dark on the gorgeous floor,
 With her eyes hid in her hair.
"Should she lift her face from the dust any more,"
 They moaned, "it will not be fair:

"All night, with the moon, she watches and weeps;
 No song in her ear is sweet,
All day, like the dead king's shadow, she keeps
 Her place at the dead king's feet."

"Your beauty is worth all other things,
 The insolent gods have seen.
It should not fade—for a thousand kings.
 You shall be for ever the queen."

And closer the Master held the charm:
 "It is Life, O queen, that I bring."
She reached the cup with a wandering arm:
 "Is it Life—for my lord, the king?"

"Nay, the king will not drink wine to-day.
 There is one drop here—for you.
Ob, listen, and keep your beauty, I pray,
 While the sweet world keeps the dew.

"For you, new lovers shall always rise;"
 And the lords and the princes near,
With the sunrise-light in their Persian eyes,
 Stood, jewelled and still, to hear.

"Oh, what were Life to the lonely—what?
 It is Love I would have you bring,
And Love in this widowed world is not.
 Let me go to my lord, the king."