Oh Loves there are that enter in, <br />And Loves there are that wait, <br />And Loves that sit a-weeping <br />Whose joy will come too late. <br />For some there be that ope their doors, <br />And some there be that close, <br />And Love must go a-begging, <br />But whither, no one knows. <br />His feet are on the thorny ways, <br />And on the dew-cold grass, <br />No ears have ever heard him sing, <br />No eyes have seen him pass. <br />And yet he wanders thro' the world <br />And makes the meadows sweet, <br />For all his tears and weariness <br />Have flowered beneath his feet. <br />The little purple violet <br />Has marked his wanderings, <br />And in the wind among the trees, <br />You hear the song he sings.<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-love-that-goes-a-begging/
