Ruth Gaines

WHERE is the home of love so dear?

Where but here—yea, here?

Here love and danger snatch the flower

Of life perchance a single hour,

Mate and die.

Here they lie—yea, here!

Here love hath pierced each heart with grief.

Joy so brief—ah, brief!—

Is paid with tears enow. They know,

Our well-beloved, an utter woe

Than death more dread;

They are wed to grief.

None weary of sweet love and dear—

Nay, not here, not here.

Black-veiled as any holy nun

The brides of love and war are done

With love’s delight.

Their long, long night is here.

In those who give and those who take

Hearts must break, must break.

Yet give they of themselves twice o’er

Who give to love in time of war,

And lightly bear

Despair for dear love’s sake.