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Edith Nesbit - Flower Of Aloe
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HOW can I tell you how I love you, dear? 
    There is no music now the world is old; 
    The songs have all been sung, the tales all told 
Broken the vows are all this many a year. 


Had we but met when all the world was new, 
    When virgin blossoms decked untrodden fields, 
    I had plucked all the buds that summer yields 
And woven a garland, worthy even of you. 


Or had I sung when rhymes were yet unwed, 
    And crowned their marriage in the songs I made, 
    I had laid them down before you unafraid, 
Meet offering to your grace and goodlihead. 


But all the dreams are dreamed, and no new heat 
    Touches life`s altars, all the scents are burnt, 
    The truths all taught and all the lessons learnt, 
And no new stars lead kings to kiss Love`s feet. 


For now in this grey world, of youth bereft, 
    Love has no throne, no sceptre and no crown; 
    His groves are hushed, his altars are cast down, 
And we who worship--we have nothing left. 


And yet--your lips ! The God has built him there 
    An altar which has known nor flower nor flame: 
    There may we burn the incense to Love`s name, 
There the immortal virgin rose be fair. 


So--since my lips have known but one desire, 
    And all my flowers of life are vowed to you-- 
    For us, at least, the old world has something new: 
For me the altar--and for you the fire!
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