Forever

There is a change in love that is not ebb.
For love, as life, must Time's behest obey;
There is the wonder of the growing web,
And lilies spin their blooms beneath the clay.'
— This from my head to my sad breast I speed:
But Reason there a world of angry sighs
Encountereth — 'The antique spell is dead,
And, if love's favour altereth, love dies.'
The god to my extremity — 'Dear Heart,
Mourn not defeat and lovely hours undone.
For every mother from her child must part,
Yea, every mother that doth rear a son!'
And blushing at the keen rebuke I pass.
Smile at the scythe and smile at Time's hour-glass.