New Moon II (Ah, yes! For love is not a graven stone)

Ah, yes! For love is not a graven stone Nor sainted image cast in changeless bronze, To front the onslaughts of tempestuous time And the slow ravages of frost endure. It is more like a blossom of the field Springing in meadow corners unobserved Or from the common roadside in the dust, To be the marvel of the passer-by. Within the fallow of the heart there falls A chance-sown seed of glory on a day; Our rapture warms it like the kindly sun, Our tears of sorrow nourish it like rain; And there, as in our own door-yard, behold An immortal flower the Heavenly Gardener tends.