Poems (Cromwell)/Renewal
RENEWAL
Can this be love men yield me in return For what I do? I hold a strange belief That love is not a tribute, nor a leaf Of laurel, nor a wage the soul can earn By any kind of doing. The concern Of love is need, and love is the spare sheaf We glean from pain—the fruit of patient grief. Can this be love men yield me; Nay. I spurn Their recompense who could so long refrain Frown giving. I myself will grant the gift And prove what loving is. I'll finer sift My sorrow, make new songs distilled from pain; Above this hour of bitterness I'll lift My spirit up and taste my grief again!