To Earthward---Robert Frost

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 flow of- was it musk from hidden grapevine springs downhill at dusk?

I had the swirl and ache from sprays of honeysuckle That when they're gathered shake dew on the knuckle.

I craved strong sweets, 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.