Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;

Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.

It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

                                Edna St. Vincent Millay


*i love it when the words of another hit home.

The Doubter's Prayer- Anne Bronte

Eternal Power, of earth and air!

Unseen, yet seen in all around,

Remote, but dwelling everywhere,

Though silent, heard in every sound;

If e'er thine ear in mercy bent,

When wretched mortals cried to Thee,

And if, indeed, Thy Son was sent,

To save lost sinners such as me:

Then hear me now,while kneeling here,I

 lift to thee my heart and eye,

And all my soul ascends in prayer,

OH, GIVE ME--GIVE ME FAITH! I cry.

Without some glimmering in my heart,

I could not raise this fervent prayer;

But, oh! a stronger light impart,

And in Thy mercy fix it there.

While Faith is with me, I am blest;

It turns my darkest night to day;

But while I clasp it to my breast,

I often feel it slide away.

Then, cold and dark, my spirit sinks,

To see my light of life depart;

And every fiend of Hell, methinks,

Enjoys the anguish of my heart.

What shall I do, if all my love,

My hopes, my toil, are cast away,

And if there be no God above,

To hear and bless me when I pray?

If this be vain delusion all,

If death be an eternal sleep,

And none can hear my secret call,

Or see the silent tears I weep!

Oh, help me, God!

For thou alone Canst my distracted soul relieve;

Forsake it not: it is thine own,

Though weak, yet longing to believe.

Oh, drive these cruel doubts away;

And make me know, that Thou art God!

A faith, that shines by night and day,

Will lighten every earthly load.

If I believe that Jesus died,

And waking, rose to reign above;

Then surely Sorrow, Sin, and Pride,

Must yield to Peace, and Hope, and Love.

And all the blessed words He said

Will strength and holy joy impart:

A shield of safety o'er my head,

A spring of comfort in my heart.

** Sometimes you stumble across the words of another that so aptly mirror your thoughts and feelings that you are left wondering how similar the human experience can be.

I measure every Grief I meet (561) -Emily Dickinson.

 I measure every Grief I meet

With narrow, probing, Eyes –

I wonder if It weighs like Mine –

Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long

Or did it just begin –

I could not tell the Date of Mine –

It feels so old a pain –

I wonder if it hurts to live –

And if They have to try –

And whether – could They choose between –

It would not be – to die –

I note that Some – gone patient long –

At length, renew their smile –

An imitation of a Light

That has so little Oil –

I wonder if when Years have piled –

Some Thousands – on the Harm –

That hurt them early – such a lapse

Could give them any Balm –

Or would they go on aching still

Through Centuries of Nerve –

Enlightened to a larger Pain –

In Contrast with the Love –

The Grieved – are many – I am told –

There is the various Cause –

Death – is but one – and comes but once –

And only nails the eyes –

There's Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –

A sort they call "Despair" –

There's Banishment from native Eyes –

In Sight of Native Air –

And though I may not guess the kind –

Correctly – yet to me

A piercing Comfort it affords

In passing Calvary –

To note the fashions – of the Cross –

And how they're mostly worn –

Still fascinated to presume

That Some – are like My Own –

***I love this poem.