Poems (Hinchman)/The little love that gleams between us

by Anne Hinchman

XXIX

The little love that gleams between us
Touch not. Beware! your hand above
Its tiny flame may quickly quench it:
This night may kill our little love.

I see it yet, a feeble glimmer;
My heart is cold, nor doth it move
At that wan flame; the night of anger
Swoops down to kill our little love.

Why would you touch it with such longing,
Scatter the fuel, the life thereof?
The world is cold and dark around us.
This night has kill'd our little love.