Poems (Henley)/If it should come to be

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XLIV
If it should come to be,This proof of you and me,  This type and signOf hours that smiled and shone,And yet seemed dead and gone  As old-world wine:
Of Them Within the GateAsk we no richer fate,  No boon above,For girl child or for boy,My gift of life and joy,  Your gift of love.
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