Your love is not mere floating dream, my dear;
It’s not a mental, phosphorescent spear
That cleaves my faint imaginary mind.
It’s not a tissue mist that I unwind
For contemplation’s reading, slim and slight,
Nor ’tis soft reflection of a hazy light.
Your love is solid earth, firm and sure,
And more of worth it is because earth-pure,
Real, yet ideal, right, because it’s real.
We dream that we may reach, not dream to dream.
True beauty, love, and joy, are like a beam
Of light, that is at greatest when it’s bright
And full, with no disputing of its might.
Your love is all the sun I need, my dear.