The Broken Wing/The Illusion of Love

​2. The Illusion of Love

Beloved, you may be as all men say   Only a transient spark Of flickering flame set in a lamp of clay— I care not . . . since you kindle all my dark With the immortal lustres of the day.
And as all men deem, dearest, you may be   Only a common shell Chance-winnowed by the sea-winds from the sea— I care not . . . since you make most audible The subtle murmurs of eternity.
And tho' you are, like men of mortal race,   Only a hapless thing That Death may mar and destiny efface— I care not . . . since unto my heart you bring The very vision of God's dwelling-place.
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