And perhaps I value you more for this.
For this is Wisdom; to love, to live,
To take what Fate, or the Gods, may give,
To ask no question, to make no prayer.
To kiss the lips and caress the hair.
Speed passion's ebb as you greet its flow,—
To have,—to hold,—and,—in time,—let go!
And this is our Wisdom: we rest together
On the great lone hills in the storm-filled weather.
And watch the skies as they pale and burn,
The golden stars in their orbits turn.
While Love is with us, and Time and Peace,
And life has nothing to give but these.
But, whether you love me, who shall say.
Or whether you, drifting down my way
In the great sad River of Chance and Change,
With your looks so weary and words so strange,
Lit my soul from some hidden flame
To a passionate longing without a name.
Who shall say?
Not I, who am but a broken boat.
Content for awhile to drift afloat
In the little noontide of love's delights
Between two Nights.
15
