And you must love him, ere to you
He will seem worthy of your love.

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That best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love.

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There is a comfort in the strength of love:
'Twill make a thing endurable, which else
Would overset the brain, or break the heart.

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But how can he expect that others should
Build for him, sow for him, and at his call
Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?

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She gave me eyes, she gave me ears;
And humble cares, and delicate fears;
A heart, the fountain of sweet tears;
And love and thought and joy.

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Mightier far
Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway
Of magic potent over sun and star,
Is Love, though oft to agony distrest,
And though his favorite seat be feeble woman's breast.

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A pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart of love.

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But is there any comfort to be found?
Man is in love and loves what vanishes,
What more is there to say?

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Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old.

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How many loved your moments of glad grace
And loved your beauty with love false or true
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you
And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

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