Classic Poem

I found myself—while she was gone—
Retracing all her usual habits;
A swing by the creek
In the still brilliant coolness,
A walk along streets
We’d walked talkative, silently.
There is even a wall of grey stone
Rising up from the riverbank,
Like love despite time.

If love comes, I wish for it thus.

And when tomorrow—oh, tomorrow! —comes,
In fire and strength and beauty and passion,
I can promise to patience, to purity:
The Lord is faithful.
He will bring us to Him.

When love comes, let it come thus.