THE CHOICE

If Death should come to me to-night, and say:

“I weigh thy destiny; behold, I give

One little day with this thy love to live,

Then, my embrace; or, leave her for alway,

And thou shalt walk a full array of years;

Upon thee shall the world's large honours fall,

And praises clamorous shall make for all

Thy strivings rich amends.” If in my ears

Thou saidst, “I love thee!” I would straightway cry,

“A thousand years upon this barren earth

Is death without her: for that day I die,

And count my life for it of poorest worth.”

Love's reckoning is too noble to be told

By Time's slow fingers on its sands of gold.