140 
ROSA DECIDUA 
 
 
Now call me callous !  Pass me, prigs, and sneer 
At the base soul that could not bear its cross !   
I say that infinite loss is infinite loss, 
That tears are trivial, tears are happiness, 
That this blind ache is God’s last punishment 
For love ;  that all things in that one thing shent 
Are damned, that had I loved her less 
I could have prated in some honeyed strain. 
Taking a subtle pleasure in my pain. 
It is my bulk, the mass of my intent, 
That makes the ruin abject.  I had sung 
Some partial earthquake ;  here the universe  
Crashes with one great curse, 
Whelming the singer and the song.  My tongue 
Is palsied ;  only this chaotic clash 
Of curses echoes the dire crash. 
 
And after all the roar, there steals a strain 
At last of tuneless, infinite pain ;   
And all my being is one throb 
Of anguish, and one inarticulate sob 
Catches my throat.  All these vain voices die, 
And all these thunders venomously hurled 
Stop.  My head strikes the floor ;  one cry, the old cry, 
Strikes at the sky in its exquisite agony :   
 
Rose !  Rose o’ th’ World !