To Manon, On His Fortune In Loving Her

I DID not choose thee, dearest. It was Love

That made the choice, not I. Mine eyes were blind

As a rude shepherd's who to some lone grove

His offering brings and cares not at what shrine

He bends his knee. The gifts alone were mine;

The rest was Love's. He took me by the hand,

And fired the sacrifice, and poured the wine,

And spoke the words I might not understand.

  I was unwise in all but the dear chance

Which was my fortune, and the blind desire

Which led my foolish steps to Love's abode,

And youth's sublime unreason'd prescience

Which raised an altar and inscribed in fire

Its dedication To the Unknown God.