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by Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)

"Oh! Love," they said, "is King of Kings,
   And Triumph is his crown.
Earth fades in flame before his wings,
   And Sun and Moon bow down."---
But that, I knew, would never do;
   And Heaven is all too high.
So whenever I meet a Queen, I said,
   I will not catch her eye.

"Oh! Love," they said, and "Love," they said,
   "The gift of Love is this;
A crown of thorns about thy head,
   And vinegar to thy kiss!"---
But Tragedy is not for me;
   And I'm content to be gay.
So whenever I spied a Tragic Lady,
   I went another way.

And so I never feared to see
   You wander down the street,
Or come across the fields to me
   On ordinary feet.
For what they'd never told me of,
   And what I never knew;
It was that all the time, my love,
   Love would be merely you.


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