With our uncomprehended toys;
And no one knows
Wherefore in love these weary fools rejoice,
And grasp at stars in their uncertain way.
Yet I would rather be a fool, and love,
Than drink of wisdom, and forget the stars;
I’d rather tear life from Time’s calendars
Than lose thy face, which I am dreaming of.
Thus have I given all to be thy slave,
And now I ask that thou remember this: