Poem by Richard Watson Gilder

The New Day. Part 3. 12. Denial

When some new thought of love in me is born,
⁠     Then swift I seek a token fair and meet
⁠     That may unblamed thy blessèd vision greet;
⁠     Whether it be a rose, not bloodless torn
From that June tree which hideth many a thorn,
⁠     Or but a simple, loving message, sweet
⁠     With summer's heart and mine,—these at thy feet
⁠     I straightway fling; but all with maiden scorn
Thou spurnest. What to thee is token or sign,
⁠     Who dost deny the thing wherefor it stands!
     ⁠Then I seem foolish in my sight and thine,
Like one who eager proffers empty hands.
⁠     Thou only callest these my gifts unfine,
     ⁠While men are praising them in distant lands.

1. The New Day. Part 4. 3. Likeness in Unlikeness
2. The New Day. Part 4. 7. Song (Years have flown since I knew thee first)
3. The New Day. Part 4. 10. The Violin
4. The New Day. Part 3. 7. Body and Soul
5. The New Day. Part 3. 9. Love's Jealousy

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