The Way to Tell

THE way to tell how well I love you, Dear ?
Ask any of the gossip winds that blow,
The thousand flowers that burn it where they glow;
Ask all the things that love’s close secret hear;
Inquire of sound and silence far and near,
Of brooks that sing it or must cease to flow, —
All ministers of love above, below.
Their answer, Sweet, — of that I have no fear;
For I believe all life below, above,
Is leagued with love as light is with the day,
That heaven and earth aye take the lover’s part.
But should all other voices mock my love,
You will not heed them ; you will turn away,
Content to have the answer of your heart.