The Love Sonnets of Proteus, Juliet, XXII: On the Nature of Love

You ask my love. What shall my love then be ?
A hope, an aspiration, a desire ?
The soul's eternal charter writ in fire
Upon the earth, the heavens, and the sea ?
You ask my love. The carnal mystery
Of a soft hand, of finger-tips that press,
Of eyes that kindle and of lips that kiss,
Of sweet things known to thee and only thee ?
You ask my love. What love can be more sweet
Than hope or pleasure ? Yet we love in vain.
The soul is more than joy, the life than meat.
The sweetest love of all were love in pain,
And that I will not give. So let it be.
— Nay, give me any love, so it be love of thee.