O love, when thou dost come into my heart, (E'en though it be but short and changeful love,) A feeling of good-will toward all who move Seems of thy joy an ever-present part. Therefore my thought hath often pictured thee As some bright angel, who dost see how hard It is for men to love pure and unmarred, To climb the heights their aspirations see, And so dost come down with thy glorious lamp And set it in our hearts, when straight-way flee All evil impulses we could not tramp Beneath our feet while yet we knew not thee. For love of woman is the golden door Through which we pass and long to sin no more. |