The Conservative (Lovecraft)/January 1916/Consolation
Consolation.
Oh, grieve not if the gentle glance
That spoke to yours so shyly
But yesterday, now looks askance
On you, who hold it highly!
And do not sigh, if lips and hands
That once were kind and willing,
Obey no more love's sweet demands,
When love has lost its thrilling!
If Jane's or Agnes' heart will roam
To fresher fields and fairer,
So yours has often stray'd from home,
In quest of pastures rarer!
For love may stay or haste away;
Love knows no time, nor season;
For each unrest and change of nest,
Love has its own sweet reason!
Rheinhart Kleiner.