Classic Poem

There should be two words, dearest, one made up
—Of all glad sounds that ever breathed on earth;
Of all the ecstasies that fill joy's cup,
—Of love, and peace, and happiness, and mirth.

The other, like a weary, wailing sigh,
—Full of sad tones in longing, hungry strain,
Hopeless, despairing, just a baffled cry
—Of love and loneliness and blank, numb pain.

One I would love—the other I would fear,
—These two words, chosen with consummate art;
One meaning we're alone together, dear,
—The other meaning we're alone —apart.

There should be two words, dearest, one made up
—Of all glad sounds that ever breathed on earth;
Of all the ecstasies that fill joy's cup,
—Of love, and peace, and happiness, and mirth.

The other, like a weary, wailing sigh,
—Full of sad tones in longing, hungry strain,
Hopeless, despairing, just a baffled cry
—Of love and loneliness and blank, numb pain.

One I would love—the other I would fear,
—These two words, chosen with consummate art;
One meaning we're alone together, dear,
—The other meaning we're alone —apart.