| Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Little Book of Modern Verse. 1917. |
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| 59. There’s Rosemary |
| | | By Olive Tilford Dargan |
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| O LOVE that is not Love, but dear, so dear! | |
| That is not love because it goes full soon, | |
| Like flower born and dead within one moon, | |
| And yet is love, for that it comes too near | |
| The guarded fane where love alone may peer, | 5 |
| Ere, like young spring by summer soon outshone, | |
| It trembles into death; yet comes anon | |
| As thoughts of spring will come though summer’s here. | |
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| O star prelusive to a dream more fair, | |
| Within my heart I’ll keep a heaven for thee | 10 |
| Where thou mayst freely come and freely go, | |
| Touching with thy faint gold ere I am ’ware | |
| A twilight hope—a dawn I did not see— | |
| O love that is not Love, but nearly so! | |
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