Love is no bird that nests and flies,
No rose that buds and blooms and dies,
No star that shines and disappears,
No fire whose ashes strew the years:
Love is the god who lights the star,
Makes music of the lark’ s desire,
Love tells the rose what perfumes are,
And lights and feeds the deathless fire.
Love is no joy that dies apace
With the delight of dear embrace —
Love is no feast of wine and bread,
Red-vintaged and gold-harvested:
Love is the god whose touch divine
On hands that clung and lips that kissed,
Has turned life’ s common bread and wine
Into the Holy Eucharist.