XC

ALL else may die: the leaves that Nature bore In springtime soon may hear the autumn’s knell, And men likewise feel death’s o’erpowering spell; Ripe youth may fall, and age in time grow hoar; The moon doth wane, the sun sink from the shore; Fresh flowers fade, and lose their sweetest smell; Birds and their songs may vanish in the dell, And crumbling stones of cities be no more. Still shall my love, like love eternal, be Untouched by time; yet chastened by despair, And treasured in my heart, as all may see, Who would likewise their own true love declare. Thus in my soul, dear heart, would I hold thee Till God love’s injury at last repair.