If it should come to be, This proof of you and me, This type and sign Of hours that smiled and shone, And yet seemed dead and gone As old-world wine; Of Them Within the Gate Ask we no richer fare, No boon above, For girl child or for boy, My gift of life and joy, Your gift of love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON A SPIDER CATCHING A FLY by EDWARD TAYLOR THE CRISIS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER LET NO CHARITABLE HOPE by ELINOR WYLIE A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12 by THOMAS CAMPION ANELIDA AND ARCITE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |