Those Who Love

    Those who love the most,
    Do not talk of their love,
    Francesca, Guinevere,
    Deirdre, Iseult, Heloise,
    In the fragrant gardens of heaven
    Are silent, or speak if at all
    Of fragile, inconsequent things.

    And a woman I used to know
    Who loved one man from her youth,
    Against the strength of the fates
    Fighting in somber pride,
    Never spoke of this thing,
    But hearing his name by chance,
    A light would pass over her face.

   - Sara Teasdale