So, love by love, they came and passed,
These loves of mine,
And each one brighter than the last
Their lights did shine.
Until—but am I not too free,
Most courteous stranger,
With secrets which belong to me?
There is a danger.
Until, I say, the perfect love,
The last, the best,
Like flame descending from above,
Kindled my breast,
Kindled my breast like ardent flame,
With quenchless glow.
I knew not love until it came,
But now I know.
You smile. The twenty loves before
Were each in turn,
You say, the final flame that o’er
My soul should burn.
Smile on, my friend. I will not say
You have no reason;
But if the love I feel to-day
Depart, ’tis treason!
If this depart, not once again
Will I on paper
Declare the loves that waste and wane,
Like some poor taper.
No, no! This flame, I cannot doubt,
Despite your laughter,
Will burn till Death shall put it out,
And may be after.
TRAFALGAR SQUARE
These verses have I pilfered like a bee
Out of a letter from my C. C. C.
In London, showing what befell him there,
With other things, of interest to me.