Poems (Robert Underwood Johnson)/Good Measure of Love

GOOD MEASURE OF LOVE
One twilight was there when it seemed
New stars beneath young eyelids gleamed;

In vain the warning clock would creep
Anear the hour of beauty-sleep;

In vain the trundle yearned to hold
Far-Eyes and little Heart-of-Gold;

And love that kisses are the stuff of
At last for once there was enough of,

As though of all Affection's round
The fond climacteric had been found—

Each childish fancy heaping more,
Like spendthrift from a miser-store,

Till stopped by hug and stayed by kiss—
The sweet contention ran like this:

"How much do I love you?" (I remember but part
  Of the words of the troth of this lover)
"I love you"—he said—"why—I love you—a heart
  Brimful and running over.

"I love you a hundred!" said he, with a squeeze.
  "A thousand!" said she, as she nestled;
"A million!" he cried in triumphant ease
  While she with the numbers wrestled.

"Aha! I have found it!" she shouted, "aha!"
  (The red to the soft cheeks mounting)
"I love you—I love you—I love you, Papa,
  Over the last of the counting!"