Love seeketh not itself to please,Nor for itself hath any care,But for another gives its ease,And builds a heaven in hell’s despair.
They sin who tell us love can die;With life all other passions fly,All others are but vanity.. . . . .Love is indestructible,Its holy flame forever burneth;From heaven it came, to heaven returneth.. . . . .It soweth here with toil and care,But the harvest-time of love is there.Robert Southey
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