This is the way of it, wide world over, <br />One is beloved, and one is the lover, <br /> One gives and the other receives. <br />One lavishes all in a wild emotion, <br />One offers a smile for a life’s devotion, <br /> One hopes and the other believes, <br />One lies awake in the night to weep, <br />And the other drifts off in a sweet sound sleep. <br /> <br />One soul is aflame with a godlike passion, <br />One plays with love in an idler’s fashion, <br /> One speaks and the other hears. <br />One sobs, ‘I love you, ’ and wet eyes to show it, <br />And one laughs lightly, and says, ‘I know it, ’ <br /> With smiles for the other’s tears. <br />One lives for the other and nothing beside, <br />And the other remembers the world is wide. <br /> <br />This is the way of it, sad earth over, <br />The heart that breaks is the heart of the lover, <br /> And the other learns to forget. <br />‘For what is the use in endless sorrow? <br />Though the sun goes down, it will rise tomorrow; <br /> And life is not over yet.’ <br />Oh! I know this truth, if I know no other, <br />That passionate Love is Pain’s own mother.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-way-of-it-2/
