Breathe me the ancient words when I shall find <br /> Your spirit mine; if, seeking you, life wins <br />New wonder, with old splendor let us bind <br /> Our hearts when Love's high sacrament begins. <br /> <br />Exalt my soul with pomp and pageantry, <br /> Sing the eternal songs all lovers sing; <br />Yea, when you come, gold let our vestments be, <br /> And lamps of silver let us softly swing. <br /> <br />But if at last, (hark how I whisper, Love!) <br /> You from my temple and from me should turn, <br />I pray you chant no psalm my grief above, <br /> Over the body of Pain let no light burn. <br /> <br />Go forth in silence, quiet as a dove, <br /> Drift, with no sign, from our exultant place; <br />We need no `Ite' at the death of Love, <br /> And none should come to look on Love's white face.<br /><br />Charles Hanson Towne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-s-ritual/
