So far from rancor, my ill-abused heart, Stay and thrive, and on love's thin sighs grow fat--- For though her looks all come crossed with darts and her breath distilled show this name or that, 5 Not yours, still love, since love on nothing feeds, But hangs a perfect orchid in tropic air--- Bloomed on surmise, and, perfect, nothing needs But is itself a superfluity of air Made visible, that in visitation fine 10 Descends, as dreams that shake us when we wake In that far country still to eyes divine Until, in a wink, as winking exiles wake. Content yourself, crossed heart, with what you have; Lay alive awhile gladdened that you gave.
From the collection "Hymns"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.