Page:The Garden of Years.djvu/62



I love you now, not with the love alone

Of blind rebellious boyhood, as of old:

The blooms of mere enchantment, beauty-blown,

Lie withered, and the full fruit, slowlier grown,

Bends the slim bough beneath unmeasured gold.

The sun, of these new secrets, Time hath told—

The tempests of communicative tears—

The strong, blind winds of passion—and behold!—

The careful cultivation of the years

Hath made a harvest of what Love hath sown.

I love you now, because that I and you

Were complements before the birth of Time;

Because our souls have come, the ages through,

Down to the moment when God’s purpose drew

The twain together in one perfect rhyme;

Because that I have made Love’s aria climb

The scales that every subtler phrase involved,

Until I struck the seventh chord sublime.

And one low word upon your lips resolved

My melody, beyond all music new!