Classic Poem

You came to me in feeble health, the hectic on your cheek,
Revealed to my adoring sight a body frail and weak;
The lissome form, the glamored eyes, the spirit undefiled—
These, and a glimpse of early death, I saw, beloved child!
And if my guilty heart could dare to make your heart its goal—
I did not love you for your face—I love you for your soul!

You came to me a waif of God, unsullied by deceit;
I felt it sacrilege to kiss the shadows of your feet;
And when your thoughts were magnified beyond the dull terrene,
I dreamt you sat within the Heaven beside the Nazarene:
And if my fierce emotions seared your being like a scroll—
I did not love you for your face—I loved you for your soul!

You came to me like manna-dews—like an embodied prayer;
Till your imploring accents turned the torrent of despair.
You made me feel the blight of Sin, the majesty of Love,
And when I clutched an earthly crown, you but glanced above.
Oh, gladly for you would these hands demand the beggar's dole—
I did not love you for your face—I loved you for your soul!

You left me, darling child, before the Promised Land was won,
And it was hard for me to look upon the living sun.
'Twas no ignoble whim that hoped to make you mine alway;
My idol was no frenzy of the perishable clay.
And if I kneel to you no more, save by the churchyard knoll,
I have not loved you for your face—I've loved you for your soul!