Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
The Ebb of Love
A love that wanes is as an ebbing tide,
Which slowly, inch by inch, and scarce perceived,
With many a wave that makes brave show to rise,
Fails from the shore. No sudden treason turns
The long-accustomed loyalty to hate,
But years bring weariness for sweet content,
And fondness, daily sustenance of love,
Which use should make a tribute easier paid,
First grudged, and then withholden, starves the heart;
And though compassion, or remorseful thoughts
Of happy days departed, bring again
The ancient tenderness in seeming flood,
Not less it ebbs and ebbs till all is bare.
O happy shore, the flowing tide shall brim
Thy empty pools, and spread dull tangled weeds
In streamers many-colored as the lights
Which flash in northern heavens, and revive
The fainting blossoms of the rocks; but thou,
O heart, whence love hath ebbed, art ever bare!
poem
by
Alfred John Church
from
Littell's Living Age, Volume 173, Issue 2244
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black