Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2182/Love's Season

by M. Betham-Edwards

Nay, never ask, beloved, oh, why so late?
     Nor marvel I could see yet love thee not,
Love's secrets lie within the book of fate,
     Uncyphered and untaught.

The self-same star shines in its lofty sphere,
     The poet sees and sees a hundred times,
Before from silvery cloud emerging clear,
      'Tis wooed in deathless rhymes.

The self-same melody, unseized, ignored,
     May float for years in the composer's brain,
One day he careless strikes his harp's chord,
     To find a godlike strain.

And countless suns rise o'er the summer sea,
     Before that rosy glow the painter caught,
Transferred to canvas, for all time to be
     The fadeless dawn of thought.

So soul by soul for years may dwell alone,
     Yet side by side; no mortal tongue can tell
How word or smile or look doth make them one.
     Therein love's miracle