'Tis ended truly, truly as was best. <br />Love is a little thing, for one short day; <br />You could not make it your life's only quest, <br />Nor watch the poor corpse long in its decay. <br />Go forth, dear, thou hast much to do on earth; <br />In life's campaign there waits thee a great part, <br />Much to be won and conquered of more worth <br />Than this poor victory of a woman's heart. <br />For me the daylight of my years is dim. <br />I seek not gladness, yet shall find content <br />In such small duties as are learned of Him <br />Who bore all sorrows, till my youth is spent. <br />Yet come what may to me of weal or woe, <br />I love thee, bless thee, dear, where'er thou go.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-woman-s-sonnets-xii/
