12 RONSARD RE-VOICES A TRUISM

When you are very old, and I am gone, Not to return, it may be you will say— Hearing my name and holding me as one Long dead to you,—in some half-jesting way Of speech, sweet as vague heraldings of May Rumored in woods when first the throstles sing:— He loved me once. And straightway murmuring My half-forgotten rhymes, you will regret Evanished times when I was wont to sing So very lightly, Love runs into debt. I shall not heed you then. My course being run For good or ill, I shall have gone my way, And know you, love, no longer,—nor the sun, Perchance, nor any light of earthly day, Nor any joy nor sorrow,—while at play The world speeds merrily, nor reckoning Our coming or our going. Lips will cling, Forswear, and be forsaken, and men forget Where once our tombs were, and our children sing— So very lightly!—Love runs into debt. If in the grave love have dominion Will that wild cry not quicken the wise clay, And taunt with memories of fond deeds undone— Some joy untasted, some lost holiday,— All death’s large wisdom? Will that wisdom lay The ghost of any sweet familiar thing Come haggard from the Past, or ever bring Forgetfulness of those two lovers met When all was April?—nor too wise to sing So very lightly, Love runs into debt! Yea, though the years of vain remembering Draw nigh, and age be drear, yet in the spring We meet and kiss, whatever hour be set Wherein all hours attain to harvesting,— So very lightly Love runs into debt.