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 rest

In 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 toy

To 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!