E. Nesbit,
Songs of love and empire
“ THE APPEAL All summer-time you said: “Love has no need of shelter nor of kindness, For all the flowers take pity on his blindness, And lead him to his scented rose-soft bed.” “He is a king,” you said. “That I bow not the knee will never grieve him, For all the summer-palaces receive him.” But now Love has not where to lay his head. “He is a god,” you said. “His altars are wherever roses blossom.” And summer made his altar of her bosom, But now the altar is ungarlanded. Take back the words you said: Out in the rain he shivers broken-hearted ”
