THE GREAT HUNT

I CANNOT tell you now;
     When the wind's drive and whirl
     Blow me along no longer,
     And the wind's a whisper at last--
Maybe I'll tell you then--
                         some other time.

     When the rose's flash to the sunset
     Reels to the rack and the twist,
     And the rose is a red bygone,
     When the face I love is going
     And the gate to the end shall clang,
     And it's no use to beckon or say, "So long"--
Maybe I'll tell you then--
                         some other time.

I never knew any more beautiful than you:
     I have hunted you under my thoughts,
     I have broken down under the wind
     And into the roses looking for you.
          I shall never find any
                         greater than you.