What had I been, lost Love, if you had loved me?
A woman, smiling as the smiling May,—
As gay of heart as birds that carol gaily
Their sweet young songs to usher in the day—

As ardent as the skies that brood and brighten
O'er the warm fields in summer's happy prime,—
As tender as the veiling grace that softens
The harshest shapes in twilight's tender time.

Like the soft dusk I would have veiled your harshness
With tendernesses that were not your due,—
Your very faults had blossomed into virtues
Had you known how to love me and be true.

It had been well for you,—for me how blessèd!
But shall we ask the wind to blow for aye
From one same quarter,—keep at full for ever
The white moon smiling in a changeless sky?

Change is the law of wind and moon and lover,—
And yet, I think, lost Love, had you been true,
Some golden fruits had ripened for your plucking
You will not find in gardens that are new.
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