Real Love
Which alters when alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O not it is an ever fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
—William Shakespeare.
He that Shuts Love Out
And he that shuts Love out, in turn shall be
Shut out from Love, and on her threshold lie
Howling in outer darkness. Not for this
Was common clay taken from the common earth,
Moulded by God, and tempered with the tears
Of angels to the perfect shape of man.
—Alfred Tennyson.
God Buried in a Woman’s Soul
God buried in a woman’s soul
A treasure rare
For His safe keeping, till the day
That he to whom it was bequeathed
Should, by some look, or whisper breathed,
Beseech his birthright hid away.
She kept it long, for safety locked
Deep in her heart,
And there it grew more fair, more bright;
But no one brought the magic key
That claimed the treasure held in fee:
So, deeper still, she buried it from sight.
At last the Donor spoke and said:
“Give lavishly
To all you meet from out your store;
A heart of love, like purse of gold,
Unspent, but curses those who hold.”
Yet as she gave, the hoard but grew the more!
—Eva Dean.
Alternate Reading: Acts 22:1-22.