HOW can I tell you how I love you, dear? <br />There is no music now the world is old; <br />The songs have all been sung, the tales all told <br />Broken the vows are all this many a year. <br /> <br />Had we but met when all the world was new, <br />When virgin blossoms decked untrodden fields, <br />I had plucked all the buds that summer yields <br />And woven a garland, worthy even of you. <br /> <br />Or had I sung when rhymes were yet unwed, <br />And crowned their marriage in the songs I made, <br />I had laid them down before you unafraid, <br />Meet offering to your grace and goodlihead. <br /> <br /> <br />But all the dreams are dreamed, and no new heat <br />Touches life's altars, all the scents are burnt, <br />The truths all taught and all the lessons learnt, <br />And no new stars lead kings to kiss Love's feet. <br /> <br /> <br />For now in this grey world, of youth bereft, <br />Love has no throne, no sceptre and no crown; <br />His groves are hushed, his altars are cast down, <br />And we who worship--we have nothing left. <br /> <br /> <br />And yet--your lips ! The God has built him there <br />An altar which has known nor flower nor flame: <br />There may we burn the incense to Love's name, <br />There the immortal virgin rose be fair. <br /> <br /> <br />So--since my lips have known but one desire, <br />And all my flowers of life are vowed to you-- <br />For us, at least, the old world has something new: <br />For me the altar--and for you the fire!<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flower-of-aloe/
