LI.

    No Heaven in Truth and Love? 
    Then do not look above.

     Yet Truth and Love have wings,
     Although the highest things;
    Therewith to mount, dear friend,
     Is life that has no end.

LII.

    Art thou a mourner here? 
    But One can give thee cheer: 
    Affliction turns to grace
    Before the Master’s face.

LIII.

    My friend, my troubled friend,
     If true, Love has not found you,
    Then I can comprehend
     That Duty has not bound you.

LIV.

    Love is the source of duty,
     The parent of all life,
    Which Heaven pronounces beauty,
     The crown of man and wife,
    Beginning and the end
    To hero, saint, and friend;
    An inspiration which
    Is so abundant, rich,
    That from the finger-tips
    And from the blooming lips,
    Yea, from the voiceful eyes,
    In questions and replies—­
    From every simple action
    And hourly benefaction
    It pours itself away,
    A gladness day by day,
    Exhaustless as the sun,
    Work done and never done. 
    And I have painted you,
    O maiden fair and true!

LV.

    The voice of God is love,
    As all who listen prove. 
    Be thou assured of this,
    Or life’s chief comfort miss.

LVI.

“O is not love a marvel Which one can not unravel?  Behold its bitter fruit!  Ah, that kind does not suit.”  My friend, I’m not uncivil—­ Self makes of love a devil, And it is love no more; His guise love never wore, But Satan steals the guise Of love for foolish eyes—­ Therein the danger lies, But do not be too wise.  Dost wait for perfect good In man or womanhood?  Then thou must onward press In single blessedness, And find, perhaps too late, Love dies without a mate—­ Perhaps this better fate When love a banquet makes Which all the world partakes, Proved never out of date.

LVII.

    Prove all things—­even love
    Thou must needs prove. 
    But let the touch be fine
    That tests a thing divine. 
    Yea, let the touch be tender;
    True love will answer render.

LVIII.

    ’Tis Give-and-take,
     Not Take-and-give,
    That seeks to make
     Folk blessed live. 
    Where is he now? 
     Invisible. 
    Yet on thy brow
     His name I spell.

LIX.