Over And Done

WE might have held back from Love's draught divine
For many a wistful sad-and-happy day,
Tasting the voluntary sweet delay
Of lips that at the cup's edge touch the wine,
Yet will not drink, knowing that when the fine
Eagerly tasted thirst grows pain, they may
Drink deep. We might have missed Love's only way,
And thou and I been never mine and thine.
Instead, we sprang straight to the hidden shrine,
Nor lingered in the temple's outer part;
We plucked our rose to die upon our heart,
Nor left it on its tree to slowly pine:
It dies more quickly, for our heart is hot;
But, oh, if we had seen, yet plucked it not!