Love me. I care not what the circling years <br />To me may do. <br />If, but in spite of time and tears, <br />You prove but true. <br /> <br />Love me--albeit grief shall dim mine eyes, <br />And tears bedew, <br />I shall not e'en complain, for then my skies <br />Shall still be blue. <br /> <br />Love me, and though the winter snow shall pile, <br />And leave me chill, <br />Thy passion's warmth shall make for me, meanwhile, <br />A sun-kissed hill. <br /> <br />And when the days have lengthened into years, <br />And I grow old, <br />Oh, spite of pains and griefs and cares and fears, <br />Grow thou not cold. <br /> <br />Then hand and hand we shall pass up the hill, <br />I say not down; <br />That twain go up, of love, who 've loved their fill,-- <br />To gain love's crown. <br /> <br />Love me, and let my life take up thine own, <br />As sun the dew. <br />Come, sit, my queen, for in my heart a throne <br />Awaits for you!<br /><br />Paul Laurence Dunbar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-s-apotheosis/
