If Time that feeds love dies to die no more, <br />Immortal hours, dear friends, were yours and mine; <br />For Morn that on the hills oped eyes divine, <br />And Eve that walked like Mary by the shore <br />Where that old Dreamer, as he built, of yore, <br />Saw her, and told his dream in such a shrine <br />As was a kind of Mary, and the shine <br />Of Noon, and starry censers swinging o'er <br />With Night, all made ye dearer: thou whose soul, <br />Palimpsest of a dead and living world, <br />Taketh no dust from that nor stain from this, <br />And thou who with thyself hast so empearled <br />The writing-knowing well how rare it is- <br />That the scrolled jewels and the jewelled scroll <br />In total more than both complete a married whole.<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-professor-and-mrs-j-s-blackie/
