  A LITTLE love, of Heaven a little share, And then we go—what matters it, since where, Or when, or how, none may aforetime know, Nor if Death cometh soon, or lingering slow, Send on ahead his herald of Despair. On this gray life Love lights with golden glow Refracted from The Source, his bright wings throw Its glory on us, if Fate grant our prayer, A little love! A little; ’tis as much as we can bear, For Love is compassed with such magic air Who breathes it fully dies; and knowing so, The Gods all wisely but a taste bestow For little lives; a little while they spare A little love. |
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