Classic Poem

Life thrills me through with all its mighty power:
Lord of my darling's heart, I rule the whole.
I reach the golden heart of every flower;
I apprehend the starry night's deep soul.

Love touches all things into sweeter bloom,
Transfigures common things, till heavenly light
Gleams from the emerald moss on every tomb
And from the smallest blossom pure and white.

I love. And therefore heaven and God are true:
Christ's resurrection was no woman's dream.
Because I love, the sky is ever blue:
Because I love, the stars shall alway gleam.

Because I love, I understand the love
That led God's heart to suffer for the race.
God died for all, his love for all to prove,
As I would die for one belovéd face.

“When the first star lay, resting in my hand,
Poised, ere I burled it forth upon the deep,
In my far-seeing thought your love I planned
And chose star-warders for your nuptial sleep.

“Before the first flower blossomed, I ordained
Within my soul the blossoms she should wear.
Ere time began, within my thought I stained
Deep-red the poppies for her deep-black hair.

“And, as time onward sped, through rose on rose
I poured the sweetness and the fragrant bliss
Which, quite perfected now, her lips disclose,
And culled from flowers the sweetness of her kiss.”

So God said, having us in his regard,
Us two, and us alone, my love and me;
As if the whole sublime heaven, golden-starred,
Were made to light one inlet of the sea.

As if the sun were for a single flower
Created,—for one blue-bell in a lane:
As if creation's every previous hour
Were preparation for our final reign.

So ever will we reign, my love and I:
The one thing deathless is a love like ours.
It gathers depth from the unmeasured sky:
It gathers sweetness from the whole world's flowers.

My love is mine for ever. I am hers.
Nought charms me save the royalty in her look.
At her least touch my being thrills and stirs
To-day, as at her first long glance it shook.

No love that changes is the love supreme:
No love that falters is the love divine.
Death would not wake me from my passionate dream:
No love that tires of love is love like mine.

For sooner could God's hand displace the sun,
Or hush the drum-roll of the stormy sea,
Or, having made stars countless, leave not one,
Than quench the unending fire of love in me.