I HAVE not yet I could have loved thee, sweet; <br />Nor know I wherefore, thou being all thou art, <br />The engrafted thought in me throve incomplete, <br /> <br />And grew to summer strength in every part <br />Of root and leaf, but hath not borne the flower. <br />Love hath refrained his fullness from my heart. <br /> <br />I know no better beauty, none with power <br />To hold mine eyes through change and change as thine, <br />Like southern skies that alter with each hour, <br /> <br />And yet are changeless, and their calm divine <br />From light to light hath motionlessly passed, <br />With only different loveliness for sign. <br /> <br />I know no fairer nature, nor where, cast <br />On the clear mirror of thine own young truth, <br />The imaged things of Heaven lie plainer glassed; <br /> <br />Nor where more fit alike show tender ruth, <br />And anger for the right, and hopes aglow, <br />And joy and sighs of April-hearted youth. <br /> <br />But some day I, so wont to praise thee so <br />With unabashed warm words for all to hear, <br />Shall scarcely name another, speaking low. <br /> <br />Some day, methinks, and who can tell how near? <br />I may, to thee unchanged, be praising thee <br />With one not worthier but a world more dear; <br /> <br />With one I know not yet, who shall, maybe, <br />Be not so fair, be not in aught thy peer; <br />Who shall be all that thou art not to me.<br /><br />Augusta Davies Webster<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/not-love-8/
