Richard Watson Gilder

The New Day. Part 3. 22. The Lover's Lord and Master

I pray thee, dear, think not alone of me,
     ⁠But sometimes think of my great master, Love;
⁠     His faithful slave he is so far above
     ⁠That for his sake I would forgotten be—
Tho' well I know that hidden thus from thee
     ⁠Not far away my image then might rove,
     ⁠And his sweet, heavenly countenance would move
⁠     Ever thy soul to gentler charity.
So when thy lover's self leaps from his song
⁠     Thou him may love not less for his fair Lord.
⁠     But that thy love for me grow never small
(As bow long bent twangs not the arrowed cord,
⁠     And he doth lose his star who looks too long),
⁠     Sometimes, dear heart, think not of me at all.