Robert Frost "To Earthward"
Love at the lips was
touch as sweet as I could bear;
And once that seemed too much; I lived on air
That crossed me from sweet things, The scent of -- was it musk
from hidden grapevine springs down hill at dusk?
I had the swirl and ache from sprays of honeysuckle
That when they're gathered shake dew on the knuckle.
I craved sweet things, but those seemed strong when I was young;
The petal of the rose it was that stung.
Now no joy but lacks salt that is not dashed with pain
And weariness and fault; I crave the stain Of tears,
the aftermark of almost too much love,
The sweet of bitter bark and burning clove.
When stiff and sore and scarred I take away my hand
From leaning on it hard in grass and sand,
The hurt is not enough: I long for weight and strength
To feel the earth as rough To all my length.