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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=348180" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Growth of Love XI</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=348180" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">XI<br> Belovèd, those who moan of love's brief day<br> Shall find but little grace with me, I guess, <br> Who know too well this passion's tenderness<br> To deem that it shall lightly pass away, <br> A moment's interlude in life's dull play; <br> Though many loves have lingered to distress, <br> So shall not ours, sweet Lady, ne'ertheless, <br> But deepen with us till both heads be grey. <br> For perfect love is like a fair green plant, <br> That fades not with its blossoms, but lives on, <br> And gentle lovers shall not come to want, <br> Though fancy with its first mad dream be gone; <br> Sweet is the flower, whose radiant glory flies, <br> But sweeter still the green that never dies.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Archibald+Lampman">Archibald Lampman</a></strong></div>

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