You thought you loved me, Dear -- until you read In me what Love was; then That Other came Who won your knowledge. So your dream was dead, And my reality was put to shame. It is a bitter thing to have no worth, To pour oneself out utterly, in vain; But -- these things are of earth, and turn to earth: The lamp of pleasure and the shade of pain. "Be wise and manly; leave such thoughts alone." The wise ones of this world laugh Love away, Criticise God, and play with bits of stone -- I do not wish to be as wise as they; Only to love you perfectly, and wait, Nor stain with any doubt our joy to be. Never is but to-morrow. When we mate, Dear, we shall still have all eternity. |