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by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Yes, yes! I love thee, Guilo; thee alone.
        Why dost thou sigh, and wear that face of sorrow?
The sunshine is to-day's, although it shone
        On yesterday, and may shine on to-morrow.

I love but thee, my Guilo! be content;
        The greediest heart can claim but present pleasure.
The future is thy God's. The past is spent.
        To-day is thine; clasp close the precious treasure.

See how I love thee, Guilo! Lips and eyes
        Could never under thy fond gaze dissemble.
I could not feign these passion-laden sighs;
        Deceiving thee, my pulses would not tremble.

"So I loved Romney." Hush, thou foolish one—
        I should forget him wholly wouldst thou let me;
Or but remember that his day was done
        From that supremest hour when first I met thee.

"And Paul?" Well, what of Paul? Paul had blue eyes,
        And Romney gray, and thine are darkly tender!
One finds fresh feelings under change of skies—
        A new horizon brings a newer splendor.

As I love thee I never loved before;
        Believe me, Guilo, for I speak most truly.
What though to Romney and to Paul I swore
        The self-same words; my heart now worships newly.

We never feel the same emotion twice:
        No two ships ever ploughed the self-same billow;
The waters change with every fall and rise;
        So, Guilo, go contented to thy pillow.

from Poems of Passion by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1883)

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