Love has moods: and I am cold,
Very cold ofttimes to Thee;
Fain to slip from Thy dear hold
To my follies and be free.
Yet I love: Thou knowest all.
I am Thine in heat and chill;
Thou, Thou hast my heart in thrall,
All my life and all my will.
Thou, Immortal Lover, sure
Knowest the way that lovers have,
Now so cold, afraid, unsure,
Now afire with love and brave.
If I loved less it might be
That the way was smoother, less
Of the heavenly joys for me
And the cast-down bitterness.
I am cold — be that Love’s proof! —
And I burn — the proof again! —
I would not be smooth but rough
Lest the smoother love should wane.
Give me earth or Heaven — and yet
If it is Love’s test to swing
‘Twixt the earth and Heaven still set —
I — I ask no other thing.