60 IT IS ENOUGH

Love me or love me not, it is enough That I have loved you, seeing my whole life is Uplifted and made glad by the glory of Love,— My life that was a scroll bescrawled and blurred With tavern-catches, which that pity of his Erased, and wrote instead one lonely word, Yolande! I have accorded you incessant praise And song and service, dear, because of this; And always I have dreamed incessantly Who always dreamed,—When in oncoming days This man or that shall love you, and at last This man or that shall win you, it must be That, loving him, you will have pity on me When happiness engenders memory And long thoughts nor unkindly of the past, Yolande! Of this I know not surely,—who am sure That I shall always love you while I live, And that, when I am dead, with naught to give Of song or service, Love will yet endure, And yet retain his last prerogative, When I lie still, and sleep out centuries With dreams of you and the exceeding love I bore you, and am glad dreaming thereof, And give God thanks for all, and so find peace, Yolande!