THE MEMORY OF LOVE by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES

RELIGIOUS LOVE! it is most sure and true,
That Man, before he felt the dank night-air
Of this our nether birth, thy kingdom knew,
And bathed his Spirit in the day-spring there.

Else could world-withered age and flippant youth,
Minds of unloving and unlovely mould,
Who hold the "ancient lie" for solid truth,
And prize its wretched life-dross all as gold, --

Could these, the minions of the dust, -- even these,
Descant of thee as a familiar name, --
Detect thy signs, revere thy mysteries,
And, godless else, adore thy altar-flame?

And Poets too have been, who boldly own
They never felt thy influence o'er them shine,
But whose high Art has built thee many a throne,
Where thou canst fitly sit, confessed divine.

@3Remember@1 then, oh Pilgrim! and beware, --
Thou, with that Memory for a master-key,
Wilt open Heaven, and be no alien there, --
For as thou honourest Love -- so will Love honour thee.

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