Love.
Unless yoi can think, when the song is done, No'other is sweet in the rhythm ; Unless you can feel, when left by one. That all men else go with him : Unless you can know, when upraised by his breath, That your beauty itself wants proving ; Unless you can swear—* For life, for death ’ — Oh, fear to call itloviug I Unless you can muse in a crowd all day, On the absent face that fixed you ; Unless you can love as the angels may, 1 AYith the breath of heaven'betwixt you ; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast. Though behooving and nnbehooving ; Unless you can die when the dream is past—- • Oh, never call it loving 1 1 —Mrs Browning.
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Bibliographic details
New Zealand Mail, Issue 844, 4 May 1888, Page 4
Word Count
122Love. New Zealand Mail, Issue 844, 4 May 1888, Page 4
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