When did the change come, dearest Heart of mine,
Whom Love loves so?
When did Love’s moon less brightly seem to shine,
While to and fro,
And soft and slow,
Chill winds began to move in its decline?
When did the change come, thou who wast mine own?
When heard the rose
First far-off winds begin to moan,
At sunset’s close,
When sad Love goes
About the autumn woods to brood alone?
When did the change come in thy heart, sweetheart,—
Thy heart so dear to me?
In what thing did I fail to bear my part,—
My part to thee,
My soul confesses, and how fair thou art?
Alas for poor changed Love! We cannot say
What changes Love.
My love would not suffice to make your day
Now gladly move,
Though kisses strove
With answering kisses, in Love’s sweetest way.
But though I know you changed, right well I know
That should we meet,
Deep in your heart some love for me would glow;
Though not that heat
Which made it beat
So fast with joy two years—one year ago.
Love Poem by Philip Bourke Marston
Love Art – Two Tahitian Women (1899) by Paul Gauguin. Original from The MET Museum.