Classic Poem

I did not love him for myself alone:
I loved him that he loved my dearest love.
O God, no blasphemy
It is to feel we loved in trinity,
To tell Thee that I loved him as Thy Dove
Is loved, and is Thy own,
That comforted the moan
Of Thy Beloved, when earth could give no balm
And in Thy Presence makes His tenderest calm.

So I possess this creature of Love's flame,
So loving what I love he lives from me;
Not white, a thing of fire,
Of seraph plumed limbs and one desire,
That is my heart's own, and shall ever be:
An animal — with aim
Thy Dove avers the same. . . .
O symbol of our perfect union, strange
Unconscious Bearer of Love's interchange.