Poems (Van Rensselaer)/To her Lover
TO HER LOVER
I know not, I know not!You see,The leaves are by no means the tree.They will wither and die—In the winter-buds lieAs many to burgeon next year.But blot out the tint of the blue and where,Where is your sky?Quench the flame of Aldebaran's eyeAnd you have no star.—I am wondering whether the love that I bear(To-day, as things are,)To your love and to what I imagine your heart,I am wondering whether such partIn the sum of myself it will playAs the green of the year in the life of the tree?Or will it beAs is to the heaven by dayIts radiant blue, and by nightTo the star its immeasurable light?