"THE HAWTHORN HATH A DEATHLY SMELL"
Reading edition
The flowers of the field Have a sweet smell; Meadowsweet, tansy, thyme, And faint-heart pimpernel; But sweeter even than these, The silver of the may Wreathed is with incense for The Judgment Day.
An apple, a child, dust, When falls the evening rain, Wild brier's spicèd leaves, Breathe memories again; With further memory fraught, The silver of the may Wreathed is with incense for The Judgment Day.
Eyes of all loveliness— Shadow of strange delight, Even as a flower fades Must thou from sight; But oh, o'er thy grave's mound, Till come the Judgment Day, Wreathed shall with incense he Thy sharp-thorned may.
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