Love, with no other agent
Save communion by the eye,
Evoked from those bright creatures
Our secret unity;
There, flowering from old ages,
Hung on time’s blossoming stem
All that fairest was in me
Or loveliest in them;
And truly it was happiness
Unto a poet’s heart
To find that living in his breast
Which is immortal art.
_The Forum_ _George Edward Woodberry_