Suspicion's playful counterfeit <br />Begot your question strange: <br />The only thing that I forget <br />Is that there's any change. <br />Did that long blight which fell on you <br />My zeal of heart assuage? <br />Less willing shall I watch you through <br />The milder illness, age? <br />To my monopoly first blind <br />When risks no longer live, <br />And careless of the hand so kind <br />That has no more to give, <br />Shall I forget Spring like a tree, <br />Nor boast, ‘Her honied cup <br />Of beauty to his lips save me <br />No man has lifted up!’ <br />Mine are not memories that come <br />Of joys that could not last: <br />They are; and you, Dear, are the sum <br />Of all your lovely past. <br />Yet if, with all this conscious weal, <br />I still should covet more, <br />The joy behind me shall reveal <br />The joy that waits before: <br />I'll mind from sickness how to life <br />You came, by tardy stealth, <br />Till, one spring day, I clasp'd my wife <br />Abloom with blandest health.<br /><br />Coventry Patmore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-after-glow-3/
