Love, to be love, must walk Thy way And work Thy Will; Or if Thou say, "Lie still" Lie still and pray. Love, Thine own Bride, with all her might Will follow Thee, And till the shadows flee Keep Thee in sight. Love will not mar her peaceful face With cares undue, Faithless and hopeless too Ando out of place. Love, knowing Thou much more art Love, Will sun her grief, And pluck her myrtle-leaf, And be Thy dove. Love here hath vast beatitude: What shall be hers Where there is no more curse, But all is good? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: ON FAME (1) by JOHN KEATS RETRIBUTION by FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 25 by PHILIP SIDNEY IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 74 by ALFRED TENNYSON WITH MY FANCY by KONSTANTIN DMITRIYEVICH BALMONT VALUES by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE ROCK OF LIBERTY; A PILGRIM ODE, 1620-1920: 3. ACHIEVEMENT by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN EPIGRAM TO DON ANTONIO, KING OF PORTUGAL by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |