II
“Most Men Know Love but as a Part of Life”
Most men know love but as a part of life;They hide it in some corner of the breast,Even from themselves; and only when they restIn the brief pauses of that daily strife,Wherewith the world might else be not so rife,They draw it forth (as one draws forth a toyTo soothe some ardent, kiss-exacting boy)And hold it up to sister, child, or wife.Ah me! why may not love and life be one?Why walk we thus alone, when by our side,Love, like a visible God, might be our guide?How would the marts grow noble! and the street,Worn like a dungeon-floor by weary feet,Seem then a golden court-way of the Sun!