 | The new minnesinger and other poems |  |
vii
TO E. C.
My deep need of thy love, its mast'ring power,I scarce can fathom, thou wilt never know;
My lighter passions into rhythm may glow;
This is for ever voiceless. Could the flower
Open its petall'd thought, and praise the dower
Of sunlight, or the fresh gift of the dew,
The bounteous air that daily round it blew,
Blessing unweariedly in sun and shower,
Methinks would miss its praises: so I drink
My life of thee; and put to poet's use
Whatever crosses it of strange or fair.
Thou hast fore-fashioned all I do and think;
And to my seeming it were words' abuse
To boast a wealth of which I am the heir.
| The new minnesinger and other poems | |