Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink <br />Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; <br />Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink <br />And rise and sink and rise and sink again; <br />Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, <br />Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; <br />Yet many a man is making friends with death <br />Even as I speak, for lack of love alone. <br />It well may be that in a difficult hour, <br />Pinned down by pain and moaning for release, <br />Or nagged by want past resolution's power, <br />I might be driven to sell your love for peace, <br />Or trade the memory of this night for food. <br />It well may be. I do not think I would.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-is-not-all/
