Life and Love

FAST this Life of mine was dying,Blind already and calm as death;Snowflakes on her bosom lying,Scarcely heaving with the breath.

Love came by, and, having known herIn a dream of fabled lands,Gently stooped, and laid upon herMystic chrism of holy hands;

Drew his smile across her foldedEyelids, as the swallow dips, . . .Breathed as finely as the cold did,Through the locking of her lips.

So, when Life looked upward, beingWarmed and breathed on from above,What sight could she have for seeing,Evermore . . . but only Love?