There should you awake and sing,

With every supple sweet from the head to the feet

Modelled like a wood-dove’s wing,—

O, to awake, to shake away the night,

And find you happy there,

On the other side of death, with the sea-wind blowing round you,

And the scent of the thyme in your hair.

46

46

THE STRANGE GUEST

YOU cannot leave a new house

With any open door,

But a strange guest will enter it

And never leave it more.

Build it on a waste land,

Dreary as a sin.

Leave her but a broken gate,

And Beauty will come in.

Build it all of scarlet brick.

Work your wicked will.

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