Songs of Love and Loss

Love, if I weep it will not matter,
  And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about it,
  But it is good to feel you there.

Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking, --
  White and [awful]1 the moonlight reached
Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere,
  There was a shutter loose, -- it screeched!

Swung in the wind, -- and no wind blowing! --
  I was afraid, and turned to you,
Put out my hand to you for comfort, --
  And you were gone!  Cold, cold as dew,

Under my hand the moonlight lay!
  Love, if you laugh I shall not care,
But if I weep it will not matter, --
  Ah, it is good to feel you there!
Ah, it is good to feel you there!

 Butterflies are white and blue
 In this field we wander through.
 Suffer me to take your hand.
 Death comes in a day or two.

 All the things we ever knew
 Will be ashes in that hour.
 Mark the transient butterfly,
 How he hangs upon a flower.

 Suffer me to take your hand,
 Suffer me to cherish you
 Till the dawn is in the sky,
 Whether I be false or true.
 Death comes in a day or two.

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Beat me a crown of bluer metal;
Fret it with stones of a foreign style:
The heart grows weary after a little
Of what it loved for a little while.

Weave me a robe of richer fibre;
Pattern its web with a rare device:
Give away to the child of a neighbour
This gold gown I was glad in twice.

But buy me a singer to sing one song —
Song about nothing — song about sheep —
Over and over, all day long;
Patch me again my thread-bare sleep.