OH, CALL IT BY SOME BETTER NAME.

Oh, call it by some better name,

For Friendship sounds too cold,

While Love is now a worldly flame,

Whose shrine must be of gold:

And Passion, like the sun at noon,

That burns o'er all he sees,

Awhile as warm will set as soon —

Then call it none of these.

Imagine something purer far,

More free from stain of clay

Than Friendship, Love, or Passion are,

Yet human, still as they:

And if thy lip, for love like this,

No mortal word can frame,

Go, ask of angels what it is,

And call it by that name!