Wanting is—what?

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               Wanting is—what?
               Summer redundant,
               Blueness abundant,
               —Where is the blot?
Beamy the world, yet a blank all the same
—Framework which waits for a picture to frame:
What of the leafage, what of the flower?
Roses embowering with nought they embower!
Come then, complete incompletion, O comer,
Pant through the blueness, perfect the summer!
               Breathe but one breath
               Rose-beauty above,
               And all that was death
               Grows life, grows love,
                    Grows love!