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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536480" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Love Is Master Still</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536480" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Since that it may not be,<br>The thing my soul desires,<br>And that Love's tenderer fires<br>Are doomed to loss and Time's sterility,<br>Ours be it this one day<br>Flowers at Love's feet to lay,<br>For Love is master still, or be we bond or free.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536480" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We may not quite be blest.<br>Time's treasure is too great,<br>And ours too weak a fate,<br>And Joy burns low, a sun--flame in the West.<br>Night comes, the while we stand<br>Forlornly hand in hand,<br>And then the tears begin, the dreams that have no rest.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536480" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Yet, since it may not be,<br>And Love can not be wise,<br>And in each other's eyes<br>We still must seek Time's lost felicity,<br>Ours be it this last day<br>Flowers on Love's grave to lay,<br>For Love is master still, or be we bond or free.</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=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a></strong></div>

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