The Two Loves

Smoothing soft the nestling head     Of a maiden fancy-led,     Thus a grave-eyed woman said:     "Richest gifts are those we make,     Dearer than the love we take     That we give for love's own sake.     "Well I know the heart's unrest;     Mine has been the common quest,     To be loved and therefore blest.     "Favors undeserved were mine;     At my feet as on a shrine     Love has laid its gifts divine.     "Sweet the offerings seemed, and yet     With their sweetness came regret,     And a sense of unpaid debt.     "Heart of mine unsatisfied,     Was it vanity or pride     That a deeper joy denied?     "Hands that ope but to receive     Empty close; they only live     Richly who can richly give.     "Still," she sighed, with moistening eyes,     "Love is sweet in any guise;     But its best is sacrifice!     "He who, giving, does not crave     Likest is to Him who gave     Life itself the loved to save.     "Love, that self-forgetful gives,     Sows surprise of ripened sheaves,     Late or soon its own receives.