Love, to be love, must walk Thy way And work Thy Will; Or if Thou say, "Lie still" Lie still and pray. Love, Thine own Bride, with all her might Will follow Thee, And till the shadows flee Keep Thee in sight. Love will not mar her peaceful face With cares undue, Faithless and hopeless too Ando out of place. Love, knowing Thou much more art Love, Will sun her grief, And pluck her myrtle-leaf, And be Thy dove. Love here hath vast beatitude: What shall be hers Where there is no more curse, But all is good? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WINTER TREES by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS UNWELCOME by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW; IN MEMORIAM by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE RESPECTABLE BURGHER, ON 'THE HIGHER CRITICISM' by THOMAS HARDY IT IS ENOUGH by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD; OR COMPLAINT OF DAPHNIS by RICHARD BARNFIELD EASTER (TO A BASE AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |