Synopsis

TO ERATO Love is a rose, say some; in May It buds, by genial winds caressed; Tender to touch, but wellaway Its thorns run deep if idly prest; It may be ; yet it may be guessed Flowers grow as sweet, and weaponless, All the long year from East to West: Our love is love-in-idleness. Love is a toil, say some; and they Labour to love by love oppressed, And weary night brings weary day If so be they may get them blest; Yea, of all toil the weariest Is that wherewith they strive to bless Their aching heart and longing breast: Our love is love in idleness. Love is a god, say some; alway A jealous god most manifest, More swift to hear than we to pray. Mid mortals an unbidden guest ; Yet hath he given a day of rest, Whereon we worship none the less For that we toil not, neither jest : Our Love is Love in idleness.