by Zora Cross
I had not dreamed that life could be so fair,
Until you kissed its meaning into me,
And sent my soul along its airy lea
To find a sudden beauty everywhere.
Make me a couch of grass, Love, green and rare,
A pansy-pillow, filled with rosemary;
And be your face the only light I see
Through the dark curtain of my falling hair!
So shall the wandering winds that come our way
Pause as they pass and tiptoe overhead,
Fearing to stir the stream of dewy sleep
That loops our lives and holds our souls in sway;
And if Death comes with sad and pensive tread
We shall not hear the tears his angels weep.