Constancy

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Text
Author
Michael Field
Year
1889
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I love her with the seasons, with the winds,


As the stars worship, as anemones


Shudder in secret for the sun, as bees


Buzz round an open flower: in all kinds


My love is perfect, and in each she finds


Herself the goal: then why, intent to teaze


And rob her delicate spirit of its ease,


Hastes she to range me with inconstant minds?


If she should die, if I were left at large


On earth without her-I, on earth, the same


Quick mortal with a thousand cries, her spell


She fears would break. And I confront the charge


As sorrowing, and as careless of my fame


As Christ intact before the infidel.