The Golden Darkness/Plaint
PLAINT.
If He can light the white flame of a lily,
And send down children's cheeks the tears,
If He can heap the sky among the hills
And launch the sea upon the years,
How can He let me sin in fevered darkness?
How can He let me be untrue
To stars, to flowers, to buried centuries,
And most of all, to you?
And send down children's cheeks the tears,
If He can heap the sky among the hills
And launch the sea upon the years,
How can He let me sin in fevered darkness?
How can He let me be untrue
To stars, to flowers, to buried centuries,
And most of all, to you?
How can He let me ache beside my window,
Knowing how dusk waits patiently
To gather me away in wide, blue arms
Beyond the wind and sea?
With flowers and stars so sterile in my spirit,
With dusk so patient on my pane,
How can He let me dream beside my window
And wait for you in vain?
Knowing how dusk waits patiently
To gather me away in wide, blue arms
Beyond the wind and sea?
With flowers and stars so sterile in my spirit,
With dusk so patient on my pane,
How can He let me dream beside my window
And wait for you in vain?