One Way of Love
How do I love you, Dear?
I love you as the moonlight loves the mere
That all the day waits for it, and keeps close
Its beauty from the bold eyes of the sun.
But when the day-flower shuts and night's begun
Under the moonlight wakes the dreaming mere.
Drinks the soft light, and draws its beauty in;
Opens and beats and glows —
A white rose made of water, yea, a rose.
Yours is a subtler music than my ear
Can follow into silence when I hear.
Yours is a rarer colour than one traces
On a dove's breast, or in the windflowers' faces.
More strange of scent is this your water-rose
And deeper-hearted than the moonlight knows
Perhaps. But in your dark moods and your clear,
Your sweetness and your sorrow and your sin,
Your doubt, your toil, your idleness, your fear,
I see them all; and love you always, Dear.