Victor Hugo

Why do you thank me, dear;
-Say I am kind?
Sometimes, alas, I fear
You must be blind.
Say, does the sun give thanks
To the flowers that lift
Glad faces on hedgerow banks
In the light, his gift?
Are thanks for your right hand meet
When it serves your need?
Do you ever bless your feet
Because of their speed?
Do you thank your eyes that see,
Or your ears that hear?
Then why give thanks to me,
My dear, my dear?
Do you know that you, yes, you
Are light to mine eyes?
I love you, love you true —
How otherwise?
You let me into your heart,
Do you not know?
You made me of life a part
A while ago.
What matters what I may do,
Or what I may give?
You know I would die for you,
As for you I live.
Then let me breathe with your breath,
To your need respond,
Till we come to the gates of death
And the strange beyond.