Love

Love Truth went forth on a search one day I For the source of love that he might say He had found its depth and its breadth for aye. He met a miser, bent and old, And his mission to him he promptly told; 'Love,' said the miser, 'is yellow gold.' He sought a maiden, young and fair, With orange blossoms in her hair, Who whispered, 'My love is waiting there.' To a struggling youth at last Truth came, As he toiled and studied and spoke his name; 'Love,' said the youth, 'is a thing called fame.' 'Love!' mocked a man with features sour, Before whom others were made to cower, 'Love! yes, love is worldly power.' A pale, weak woman Truth chanced to see, Rocking a baby on her knee; 'Only a mother knows love,' said she.