Page:Poet Lore, volume 1, 1889.djvu/26
Ages past the soul existed,
Here an age 'tis resting merely,
And hence fleets again for ages,
While the true end, sole and single,
It stops here for is, this love-way,
With some other soul to mingle.
Else it loses what it lived for,
And eternally must lose it;
Better ends may be in prospect,
Deeper blisses if you choose it,
But this life's end, and this love-bliss
Have been lost here.
True love reckons not with a debit and credit, the now against the hereafter, this world versus the next. "All for love or the world well lost," is its motto; selfless abnegation its Credo. Can we find this better expressed than in that dainty gem called "A Woman's Last Word"?
What so false as truth is
False to thee?
Where the serpent's tooth is,
Shun the tree.
Where the apple reddens,
Never pry,
Lest we lose our Edens,
Eve and I.
Teach me, only teach, love.
As I ought;
I will speak thy speech, love,
Think thy thought;
Meet, if thou require it.
Both demands.
Laying flesh and spirit
In thy hands.
This is the might of love, that it drowns all other hopes and fears, of this world or the next, and the chord of self itself ceases its vibrations and "sinks in music out of sight." Does this wild statement excite a cold and doubting surprise in your well-regulated