Conrad Potter Aiken

To My Wife

Whatever loveliness is in this music,
Whatever yearning after lovely things,--
Whatever crying after stars, in darkness,
Whatever beating of impeded wings:

Whatever climbing of the rose to sunlight,
Sweet-hearted laugh from the dark blind sod:
Whatever madness of the sea for moonlight,
Whatever yearning of the good to God:

All that is beautiful, and all that looks on beauty
With eyes filled with fire, like a lover's eyes:
All of this is yours; you gave it to me, sunlight!
All these stars are yours; you gave them to me, skies!