—Contribution

You are the loveliness that poets sought
With small success to capture in their rhymes;
You are the golden dream opiates brought
To visionaries of exotic climes.

You give a meaning to that strange delight
So indescribable, which one derives
From watching sunsets, or the mystic light
Which the pale moon to grassy hillsides gives.

And yet you are much more than this; it may
Be that the knowledge that you do exist
Makes all things seem to be with wonder kissed
So that each rapid-passing night and day
Becomes phantasmal and of small import,
With you the only real and lovely thought.