At Last
Many have sung of love a root of bane:
. . . . . . .While to my mind a root of balm it is,
. . . .For love at length breeds love; sufficient bliss
For life and death and rising up again.
Surely when light of Heaven makes all things plain,
. . . .Love will grow plain with all its mysteries;
. . . .Nor shall we need to fetch from over seas
Wisdom or wealth or pleasure safe from pain.
Love in our borders, love within our heart,
. . . .Love all in all, we then shall bide at rest,
. . . .Ended for ever life’s unending quest,
. . . . . . .Ended for ever effort, change and fear:
Love all in all; —no more that better part
. . . . . . .Purchased, but at the cost of all things here.
by Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)
Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim.
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