 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
VIII
Love well who will, love wise who can,But love, be loved, for God is love;
Love pure, as cherubim above;
Love maid, and hate not any man.
Sit as sat we by orange tree,
Beneath the broad bough and grape-vine
Top-tangled in the tropic shine,
Close face to face, close to the sea,
And full of the red-centered sun,
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Rolled melody on melody,
As echoes of deep organ's roll,
And love, nor question any one.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |