On a Grey Thread/This is Not Love
This Is Not Love
This is not love: we cannot call it love.Love would make me aware of infinite things,Drive me down the spirit's vast abyssAnd through the narrow fastnesses of pain.This is not love. Yet it holds lovelinessBeyond mere pleasure. Peace and passion bothGrow from the kiss with which I paint drab hours.It is not love: love is for the godsAnd our more godlike moments. Yet when starsWithhold their splendour, why should we not lightCandles to warm with kindly mortal flamesThe all-enfolding, cold, immortal night?