Skip to main content
Others have pleasantness and praise,
And wealth; and hand and glove
They walk with worship all their days,
But I have only Love.

And therefore if Love be a fire,
Then he shall burn me up;
If Love be water out of mire,
Then I will be the cup.

If Love come worn with wayfaring,
My breast shall be his bed;
If he come faint and hungering,
My heart shall be his bread.

If Love delight in vassalage,
Then I will be his thrall,
Till, when I end my pilgrimage,
Love give me all for all.
Rate this poem
No votes yet