When your love begins to wane,
Spare me from the cruel pain
Of all speech that tells me so--
Spare me words, for I shall know,
By the half-averted eyes,
By the breast that no more sighs,
By the rapture I shall miss
From you strangely-altered kiss;
By the arms that still enfold
But have lost their clinging hold,
And, too willing, let me go,
I shall know, love, I shall know.
Bitter will the knowledge be,
Bitterer than death to me.
Yet, 'twill come to me some day,
For it is the sad world's way.
Make no vows--vows cannot bind
Changing hearts or wayward mind.
Men grow weary of a bliss
Passionate and fond as this.
Love will wane. But I shall know,
If you do not tell me so.
Know it, tho' you smile and say
That you love me more each day.
Know it by the inner sight
That forever sees aright.
Words could but increase my woe,
And without them, I shall know.
Poems of Love by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago: M.A.Donohue, 1905.
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