Poems of Madison Cawein Vol. 3 — The Love of Loves

THE LOVE OF LOVES

I have not seen her face, and yet She is more sweet than anything Of earth--than rose or violet That winds of May and sunbeams bring.

Of all we know, past or to come, That beauty holds within its net, She is the high compendium: And yet-- I have not touched her robe, and still She is more dear than lyric words And music; or than strains that fill The throbbing throats of forest birds.

Of all we mean by poetry, That rules the soul and charms the will, She is the deep epitome: And still-- She is my world: ah, pity me!

A dream that flies whom I pursue: Whom all pursue, whoe’er they be, Who toil for Art and dare and do.

The shadow-love for whom they sigh, The far ideal affinity, For whom they live and gladly die-- Ah me!