THOUGH thy constant love I share, <br />Yet its gift is rarer; <br />In my youth I thought thee fair: <br />Thou art older and fairer! <br /> <br />Full of more than young delight <br />Now day and night are; <br />For the presence, then so bright, <br />Is closer, brighter. <br /> <br />In the haste of youth we miss <br />Its best of blisses: <br />Sweeter than the stolen kiss <br />Are the granted kisses. <br /> <br />Dearer than the words that hide <br />The love abiding, <br />Are the words that fondly chide, <br />When love needs chiding. <br /> <br />Higher than the perfect song <br />For which love longeth, <br />Is the tender fear of wrong, <br />That never wrongeth. <br /> <br />She whom youth alone makes dear <br />May awhile seem nearer: <br />Thou art mine so many a year, <br />The older, the dearer!<br /><br />James Bayard Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-m-t/
