My Love

Love thee? I must! not the great seaEver heaves upward to the moonAs my soul lifts itself to thee,Drawn by the magic of thine own.My heart is like a fountain springingIn shadow of some lonely tree,Its constant streams and ceaseless singing,Murmur and flow alone to thee.

I would I did not love thee so,Lest God should desolate the shrine,And lay the glorious image lowSo like to His, so like to thine!And could I deem the light that nowHalos h y being would depart,I would unsay my holy vow,Though it in breaking broke my heart.

But thou, thou never sure canst beLess of a glory than this hour,And my soul rests relyinglyOn thine, as on a nobler power.Day's glorious morn, her holy eve,The grand, the beautiful, the bright,Each in the soul's existence weaveNew thoughts of thee like rays of light.

Such love as this will burn till lifeHas darkened in its narrow cell,And calmly 'mid the world's fierce strife,As sheltered in some fairy dell.I only ask that thou wilt beWhat now thou art, for evermore,Peerless, yet bright'ning constantly,As soul refining leaves its ore.