SHE then became a shade that he might live, Now is what she had been...We contemplate One who gave all, who, reckless chose for mate, Not him who lacked whatever she might give, Nor Time-to-Come distraught with echoing names, Nor dim and dusty Death...her all was given To that which in each heart is the true heaven, A spirit victor over all men's shames. Yes, rather cease to be than be so vile As peer close at a balanced less or more; Beauty pays not for admiration, nor Is bounty taxed for every kindling smile; Their worth is not like truth about this earth But knows no measure, neither death nor birth. |