Archibald MacLeish

Hypocrites

When all the loves that loved her for her soul
Have married fleshly wives and comfortable,
When all the loves that loved her over well
For her sweet virtue have endured control,
When all the loves that loved her down the roll
Of every excellence she should excel
Have lost their adjectives—then I shall tell
Wherefore I loved her, and tell true the whole.

I loved her for her youth that could not last,
I loved her for her laugh that could but die,
I loved her face that death should overcast,
I loved her but a day and it was past,—
And so I love her till all loves are by:
Moments and moonlight doth the heart hold fast.