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The Admonition

James K. Baxter

No, no, not on thy cheek
Shall Heaven's blush be found,
Fair though it be and sleek
As fruits in garden ground,
For that death' s worm shall wound.

Nor at thy lips shall I
Drink the desired bliss
For which my soul is dry.
Fond one, more gently kiss,
Man's love is all amiss.

The sovereign herb, all-heal,
Hermits and saints do find
By rocky paths, and kneel
To pluck its flower kind.
We are not of their mind.

We may but weep a while,
Thirst, hunger, dread the night,
Swear falsely, speak with guile -
Shall rotting wormwood fight
Against the heavens' light ?

Yet come, child, to my arms.
We age with every breath.
Wind, wind your silken charms
About the grinning Death
Before desire faileth.