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Have I not wine, and love to drink with me,
A garden and a gracious company
Of sweet-faced dancers, and the rising moon?—
This is the happy half of sovereignty.
If in this shadowland of life thou hast
Found one true heart to love thee, hold it fast;
Love it again, give all to keep it thine,
For love like nothing in the world can last.
Long have I sought, but seldom found a lover;
To love aright is to be nought but lover,
He who would love, yet eat and rest him too,
Is still an animal, and not a lover.
For love is a great sleepless, foodless fire,
Love never moves his eyes from his desire;
Were love to sleep,—awaking, love were gone;
And what gross sustenance should love require?
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