Thinking of Love

There is just love, immeasurably fair,
And only love doth give a breath to me:
When first upon thy eyes to glance I dared,
A thousand spells enchanted heart so sweet...
Oh, never would I dream of thy dear hands
To tender mine as warmth of sparkling sun;
Nor lips, those ever worthy shaping strands,
So gently giving taste of Spring begun.
A dream doth end somewhere, like fantasy:
Well knowing once this beauty would but flee,
I let thy song solace into tranquility
My heart impoverished once, left to bleed.
And never shall I let thy stately spirits fail,
Thou art my light, though be love's angels frail.