Sonnet Xxxvi

When we met first and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. Could it mean To last, a love set pendulous between Sorrow and sorrow ? Nay, I rather thrilled, Distrusting every light that seemed to gild The onward path, and feared to overlean A finger even. And, though I have grown serene And strong since then, I think that God has willed A still renewable fear . . . O love, O troth . . . Lest these enclasped hands should never hold, This mutual kiss drop down between us both As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold. And Love, be false ! if he, to keep one oath, Must lose one joy, by his life's star foretold.