A Madrigal — Louise Chandler Moulton

OVE is a day, Sweetheart, shining and bright:It hath its rose-dawn ere the morning light;Its glow and glory of the sudden sun;Its noon-tide heat as the swift hours wear on;Its fall of dew, and silver-lighted night,—Love is a day, Sweetheart, shining and bright.

Love is a year, Beloved, bitter and brief:It hath its spring of bud, and bloom and leaf;Its summer burning from the fervid SouthTill all the fields lie parched and faint with drouth;Its autumn, when the leaves sweep down the gale,When skies are grey, and heart and spirit fail;Its winter white with snowy, more white with grief,—Love is a year, Beloved, bitter and brief.

Love is a life, Sweetheart, ending in death:Is it worth while to mourn its fleeting breath,—Light-footed youth, or sad. fore-casting prime,Joy of young hope, or grief of later time?What pain or pleasure stays its parting breath?Love is a life, Sweetheart, ending in death.