You mocked April’s fragile beauty,
Its blooms withered
And shining from the bridge,
Rooms
And ceaseless streets,
While I lingered and saw
How the lilacs cried
Between a deaf sky
And torpid earth;
Such a fool I am,
If only I had loved
As you had loved,
Loving all but the weeping day,
Yet I lived
For the passing spring
And when my moment
Shall burn no more,
The world will end in dust and dew;
But still it burns,
How brightly it burns!
Among the music
And rustling feet,
Beneath the silent and sullen gods
Allow me a foolish utterance,
For I have seen beyond the
Immortal moment,
Only to whisper a breathless surrender,
While you lay
Upon gilded crowns and broken stone,
My friend,
Dare I ask you,
Who was the fool?