BECAUSE.
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No real Poet ever wove in numbers
All his dream; but the diviner part,
Hidden from all the world, spake to him only
In the voiceless silence of his heart.
All his dream; but the diviner part,
Hidden from all the world, spake to him only
In the voiceless silence of his heart.
So with Love: for Love and Art united
Are twin mysteries; different, yet the same:
Poor indeed would be the love of any
Who could find its full and perfect name.
Are twin mysteries; different, yet the same:
Poor indeed would be the love of any
Who could find its full and perfect name.
Love may strive, but vain is the endeavor
All its boundless riches to unfold;
Still its tenderest, truest secret lingers
Ever in its deepest depths untold.
All its boundless riches to unfold;
Still its tenderest, truest secret lingers
Ever in its deepest depths untold.
Things of Time have voices: speak and perish.
Art and Love speak; but their words must be
Like sighings of illimitable forests,
And waves of an unfathomable sea.
Art and Love speak; but their words must be
Like sighings of illimitable forests,
And waves of an unfathomable sea.
BECAUSE.
T is not because your heart is mine—mine only—Mine alone;
It is not because you chose me, weak and lonely,
For your own;
Not because the earth is fairer, and the skies
Spread above you
Are more radiant for the shining of your eyes—
That I love you!
