The months must pass, the seasons come and go,
The years succeed themselves with breathless haste,
As all things bend to life’s inconstant flow;
Our very world is made to grow and waste.
And so it is with passion and desire –
Brief winds that rouse the heart and pass away,
Brief winds that turn an ember into fire,
A self-consuming blaze, doomed to decay.
But love, I’ve learnt, obeys a different law,
Eternal and unchanging, always the same,
And ever to its object kneels in awe,
Kept warm by its sacred, self-renewing flame.
And so it is I sing my love for you
With poems always the same and always new.
Very nice!!!
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