Love

    Where that comes in that shall not go again；

    Love sells the proud heart's citadel² to Fate.

    They have known shame， who love unloved. Even then，

    When two mouths， thirsty each for each， find slaking³，

    And agony's forgot， and hushed the crying

    Of credulous⁴ hearts， in heaven —— such are but taking

    Their own poor dreams within their arms， and lying

    Each in his lonely night， each with a ghost.

    Some share that night. But they know love grows colder，

    Grows false and dull， that was sweet lies at most.

    Astonishment⁵ is no more in hand or shoulder，

    But darkens， and dies out from kiss to kiss.

    All this is love； and all love is but this.