I’ve often wondered what love is.
I’ve heard men speak of it,—ah yes!
I’ve heard fair women, too! but what
It is, I wonder did they guess?
I’ve read of love; I’ve thought of love;
I’ve read and thought that in that hour
When love should truly come to one,
’Twould come an all-possessing power;
’Twould smite upon the chord of self,
And break the faulty string in twain;