Perhaps for years or days or only hours,
but yet love’s easy vow goes forth the same
into the hearing sweet before it sours,
that there’s no patience that can shrew or blame
a lover or love’s answer while it lives.
The running bliss of love turns with the glass
most mortal seeming of anything that sieves,
and yet the sand of life might sooner pass.
For lovers die of loneliness and grief
when love has made their separation single,
however short their lives, however brief
that consummation, envious to angel,
before they die to love, if they do ever.
Til then not time, not death, not distance, sever.
Edward Wright Haile
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/zz-239-love-s-easy-vow/
