The Broken Wing/The Illusion of Love

​2. The Illusion of Love

Beloved, you may be as all men say
  Only a transient spark
Of flickering flame set in a lamp of clay—
I care not . . . since you kindle all my dark
With the immortal lustres of the day.

And as all men deem, dearest, you may be
  Only a common shell
Chance-winnowed by the sea-winds from the sea—
I care not . . . since you make most audible
The subtle murmurs of eternity.

And tho' you are, like men of mortal race,
  Only a hapless thing
That Death may mar and destiny efface—
I care not . . . since unto my heart you bring
The very vision of God's dwelling-place.

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