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Alfred Austin - Though All The World
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Though all the world should stand aside,
 And leave you to your sorrow,
 And you from none, or near, or wide,
 A smile or tear could borrow;
 I still would stand with arms outspread,
 In love and trust unshaken,
 To make a nest for that dear head,
 By all the rest forsaken.

 Come, let me crouch beside your knees,
 And we will talk together—
  You who have passed o`er stormy seas,
 And I through tranquil weather.
 What is to me the shallow scoff
 Of pert or pious sneerer?
 Let the base crowd move further off,
 I only creep the nearer.

 Sweet child! `tis not your deep blue eyes,
 Nor yet your raven tresses,
 Nor that strange mystic look, more wise
 Than all your mouth expresses:
 `Tis not your face, `tis not your form,
 Your accents bright and clever,
 Which bind me with a strength enorm,
 And make me yours for ever.

 And yet, and yet, `tis all of these,
 But oh! `tis something rarer,
 Makes every pleasing grace more please,
 And each fair charm the fairer.
  It is because your soul is high,
 If your affections lowly,
 That I prostrate myself and sigh
 Before a shrine too holy.

 And if fell clouds quenched girlhood`s beam,
 And cast their shadow o`er it,
 Your lustre now doth brighter seem
 For those dark days before it.
 Like those fair lamps that change by night
 Their radiance with their motion—
 Burn low, then fling a flood of light
 Athwart the murky ocean.
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