THE SORROW OF LOVE
 

The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
The song of the ever-singing leaves,
Had hushed away earth's old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,
And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the sorrows of her labouring ships,
And all the burden of her million years.

And now the angry sparrows in the eaves,
The withered moon, the white stars in the sky,
The wearisome loud chanting of the leaves,
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.

(Manuscript, 1891)
 

The quarrel of the sparrows in the eaves,
 The full round moon and the star-laden sky,
And the loud song of the ever-singing leaves
 Had hid away earth's old and weary cry.

And then you came with those red mournful lips,
 And with you came the whole of the world's tears,
And all the sorrows of her labouring ships,
 And all burden of her myriad years.

And now the sparrows warring in the eaves,
 The crumbling moon, the white stars in the sky,
And the loud chanting of the unquiet leaves,
Are shaken with earth's old and weary cry.

(First Printed Version, 1892)
 

The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,
The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,
And all that famous harmony of leaves,
Had blotted out man's image and his cry.

A girl arose that had red mournful lips
And seemed the greatness of the world in tears,
Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships
And proud as Priam murdered with his peers;

Arose, and on the instant clamorous eaves,
A climbing moon upon an empty sky,
And all that lamentation of the leaves,
Could but compose man's image and his cry.

(Final Printed Version, 1925)

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