HOW can I tell you how I love you, dear? br There is no music now the world is old; br The songs have all been sung, the tales all told br Broken the vows are all this many a year. br br Had we but met when all the world was new, br When virgin blossoms decked untrodden fields, br I had plucked all the buds that summer yields br And woven a garland, worthy even of you. br br Or had I sung when rhymes were yet unwed, br And crowned their marriage in the songs I made, br I had laid them down before you unafraid, br Meet offering to your grace and goodlihead. br br br But all the dreams are dreamed, and no new heat br Touches life's altars, all the scents are burnt, br The truths all taught and all the lessons learnt, br And no new stars lead kings to kiss Love's feet. br br br For now in this grey world, of youth bereft, br Love has no throne, no sceptre and no crown; br His groves are hushed, his altars are cast down, br And we who worship--we have nothing left. br br br And yet--your lips ! The God has built him there br An altar which has known nor flower nor flame: br There may we burn the incense to Love's name, br There the immortal virgin rose be fair.