WHAT would you do for your fairest one,
Wild as the wind and free as the sun,
Born a fugitive, sure to slip
Soon from secular ownership?
Men in search of the heart's desire,
Wearily trampling flood and fire,
Rove betimes into some abyss
Darker far than eternity's.
(Ah, the hazard! it awes one so!)
And shall it be thus with the boy, or no?
Sweet, if you love him, let him go.
Happy the Frontier to have gained
Undetaining and undetained,
Quick and clean, like a solar ray
Shot through spindrift across the bay!
Men would follow a long vain quest,
Feed on ashes and forfeit rest,
Bleed with battle and flag with toil,
Only to stifle in desert soil.
(Ah, the failure! it stings one so!)
And shall it be thus with the boy, or no?
Sweet, if you love him, let him go.
Vats fill up, and the sheaves are in:
Never a blessing is left to win
Save for the myrtle coronal
Round the urn at the end of all.
Men will clutch, as they clutched of old,
Souring honey or dimming gold,
Not the treasure-trove of the land
Here shut fast in a roseleaf hand.
(Ah, the folly! it irks one so!)
And shall it be thus with the boy, or no?
Sweet, if you love him, let him go.