Explore "Renunciation" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
ROSE of the desert of my heart, / Moon of the night that is my soul, / Thou can'st not know how sweet thou art, / Nor what wild tides thy beams control.
For all thy heart a garden is, / Thy soul is like a dawn of May.
And garden and dawn might both be his, / Who from them both must turn away.
Oh, garden of the Spring's delight! / Oh, dewy dawn of perfect noon! / I will not pluck thy roses white / Or warm thy May-time into June.
I can but bless thee, moon and rose, / And journey far and very far / To where the night no moonbeam shows, / To where no happy roses are!