“IF LOVE WERE ALL.”
(THE PRISONER OF ZENDA.)
If Love were all! Sore smitten at the start,
“Alas, is Love not all in all?” we cry,
And lost in wretched egoism try
Only to heal the individual smart.
Then at Life’s summons from our dreams we start
And seek, lest Life’s great stakes should pass us by,
What labor nearest to our hands may lie,
So half-knowingly, find our nobler part.
Love is not all for us; perchance some few
Love leadeth by the hand to higher ways—
What matter since for us he is not king?—
And some, more blessed yet, their labor through,
Still in the golden glory of their days
Shall garner love at a ripe harvesting.