Love
We
cannot
live,
except
thus
mutually
We
alternate,
aware
or
unaware,
The
reflex
act
of
life:
and
when
we
bear
Our
virtue
onward
most
impulsively,
Most
full
of
invocation,
and
to
be
Most
instantly
compellant,
certes,
there
We
live
most
life,
whoever
breathes
most
air
And
counts
his
dying
years
by
sun
and
sea.
But
when
a
soul,
by
choice
and
conscience,
doth
Throw
out
her
full
force
on
another
soul,
The
conscience
and
the
concentration
both
make
mere
life,
Love.
For
Life
in
perfect
whole
And
aim
consummated,
is
Love
in
sooth,
As
nature's
magnet-heat
rounds
pole
with
pole.
