Grace Hazard Conkling

I WILL not give thee all my heart

For that I need a place apart

To dream my dreams in, and I know

Few sheltered ways for dreams to go:

But when I shut the door upon

Some secret wonder—still, withdrawn—

Why dost thou love me even more,

And hold me closer than before?

When I of Love demand the least,

Thou biddest him to fire and feast:

When I am hungry and would eat,

There is no bread, though crusts were sweet.

If I with manna may be fed,

Shall I go all uncomforted?

Nay! Howsoever dear thou art,

I will not give thee all my heart.