LIV.
Love is the source of duty,
The parent of all life,
Which Heaven pronounces beauty,
The crown of man and wife,
Beginning and the end
To hero, saint, and friend;
An inspiration which
Is so abundant, rich,
That from the finger-tips
And from the blooming lips,
Yea, from the voiceful eyes,
In questions and replies--
From every simple action
And hourly benefaction
It pours itself away,
A gladness day by day,
Exhaustless as the sun,
Work done and never done.
And I have painted you,
O maiden fair and true!
LV.
The voice of God is love,
As all who listen prove.
Be thou assured of this,
Or life's chief comfort miss.
LVI.
"O is not love a marvel
Which one can not unravel?
Behold its bitter fruit!
Ah, that kind does not suit."
My friend, I'm not uncivil--
Self makes of love a devil,
And it is love no more;
His guise love never wore,
But Satan steals the guise
Of love for foolish eyes--
Therein the danger lies,
But do not be too wise.
Dost wait for perfect good
In man or womanhood?
Then thou must onward press
In single blessedness,
And find, perhaps too late,
Love dies without a mate--
Perhaps this better fate
When love a banquet makes
Which all the world partakes,
Proved never out of date.
LVII.
Prove all things--even love
Thou must needs prove.
But let the touch be fine
That tests a thing divine.
Yea, let the touch be tender;
True love will answer render.
LVIII.
'Tis Give-and-take,
Not Take-and-give,
That seeks to make
Folk blessed live.
Where is he now?
Invisible.
Yet on thy brow
His name I spell.