Poem by James Russell Lowell

“No More But So?”

  No more but so? Only with uncold looks,
  And with a hand not laggard to clasp mine,
  Think'st thou to pay what debt of love is thine?
  No more but so? Like gushing water-brooks,
  Freshening and making green the dimmest nooks
  Of thy friend's soul thy kindliness should flow;
  But, if 'tis bounded by not saying "no,"
  I can find more of friendship in my books,
  All lifeless though they be, and more, far more
  In every simplest moss, or flower, or tree;
  Open to me thy heart of hearts' deep core,
  Or never say that I am dear to thee;
  Call me not Friend, if thou keep close the door
  That leads into thine inmost sympathy.

1. To the Dark, Narrow House Where Loved Ones Go
2. I Fain Would Give to Thee the Loveliest Things
3. Poet! Who Sittest in Thy Pleasant Room
4. Much I Had Mused of Love, and in My Soul
5. Sayest Thou, Most Beautiful, That Thou Wilt Wear

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