Less than the cloud to the wind, Less than the foam to the sea, Less than the rose to the storm Am I to thee. More than the star to the night, More … - Sara Teasdale

O lovely chance, what can I do To give my gratefulness to you? You rise between myself and me With a wise persistency; I would have broken body and soul, But by your grace, still I am whole.

Oh, because you never tried
To bow my will or break my pride,
And nothing of the cave-man made
You want to keep me half afraid,
Nor ever with a conquering air
You thought to draw me unaware — Take me, for I love you more
Than I ever loved before.

Never fear though it break your heart — Out of the wound new joy will start;
Only love proudly and gladly and well,
Though love be heaven or love be hell.