Love you seek for, presupposes
  Summer heat and sunny glow.
Tell me, do you find moss-roses
  Budding, blooming in the snow?
Snow might kill the rose-tree's root --
Shake it quickly from your foot,
  Lest it harm you as you go.

From the ivy where it dapples
  A grey ruin, stone by stone,
Do you look for grapes or apples,
  Or for sad green leaves alone?
Pluck the leaves off, two or three --
Keep them for morality
  When you shall be safe and gone.