And I did love thee, not a transient flame,
Burned on the altar of an early dream;
No, I have dwelt upon that cherished name
Till it became the priestess and the beam,
And softly came around our household hearth,
The angel wings of woman’s ministry,
Rich hopes, as wild and joyous in their birth
As were the early dreams of loving thee.
And ever thus has been the full, deep tide,
Upheaving from this ocean love of mine;