MY LOVE.
Love thee? I must! not the great sea
Ever heaves upward to the moon
As my soul lifts itself to thee,
Drawn by the magic of thine own.
My heart is like a fountain springing
In shadow of some lonely tree,
Its constant streams and ceaseless singing,
Murmur and flow alone to thee.
I would I did not love thee so,
Lest God should desolate the shrine,
And lay the glorious image low
So like to His, so like to thine!
And could I deem the light that now
Halos h y being would depart,
I would unsay my holy vow,
Though it in breaking broke my heart.
But thou, thou never sure canst be
Less of a glory than this hour,
And my soul rests relyingly
On thine, as on a nobler power.
Day's glorious morn, her holy eve,
The grand, the beautiful, the bright,
Each in the soul's existence weave
New thoughts of thee like rays of light.
Such love as this will burn till life
Has darkened in its narrow cell,
And calmly 'mid the world's fierce strife,
As sheltered in some fairy dell.
I only ask that thou wilt be
What now thou art, for evermore,
Peerless, yet bright'ning constantly,
As soul refining leaves its ore.
