THEY met, they looked, they sighed, they loved; Straight each the other chose. (Why wait till slow-paced years have proved What each by instinct knows?) Whate'er mistake we mortals make, Sure, none is made above. Give prudence to the prudes; there is No substitute for love. Howe'er the worldly-wise may mate, Apart from soul or sense, And as undying passion rate Their tepid preference, Love is the wing that's sure to bring Back to the ark the dove. What all their wisdom? Ah, it is No substitute for love. And those who by ambition blind Would with a title wed, That, when they are not sore maligned, They may be envied, Heaven sends them pride wherewith to hide The loss they know not of -- To find -- too late, alas! -- there is No substitute for love. Then here's success to youth and maid Who hold in hopeful hands And weave together, unafraid, Life's old mysterious strands. "Love is enough" -- that is the stuff Fortune is fashioned of. To face the fickle world, there's naught To substitute for love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON WORDSWORTH by DAVID HARTLEY COLERIDGE WE PARTED IN SILENCE by JULIA CRAWFORD THE LOCKLESS DOOR by ROBERT FROST MIDWINTER BLUES by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES THE BROKEN FIELD by SARA TEASDALE VERSES FOR CHILDREN: MAPLE TREE by ZEDA K. AILES FRIEND by MARJORIE DUGDALE ASHE |