LOVE IN ARMOR

Love scorns that Love implore you

To bind his hurts or heal;

Prays only, arm around you,

To draw on hours that hound you,

To whirl his sword before you

And fence your path with steel.

Not for the beauty of you,

The peace of all your ways,

He burns — but in your quarrel

To hold the pass of peril,

To stand at arms above you

Against embattled days.

No comfort for his blundering

He cries your heart to yield,

But that his arm enfold you,

His shield-arm shield and hold you

Safe, when the foe charge thundering,—

His sword against the field!