Love is filling from one's own,
to another cup;
love is the daily laying down
and taking up;
a choosing of the stony path
through each new day,
that other feet may tread with ease the smoother way.
Love is not blind
but looks abroad through others eyes;
and asks not, Must I give?
but, May I sacrifice?
Love hides its grief, that other hearts and lips may sing
and burdened walks
that other lives may buoyant wing.
Have you a love like this
within your soul?
Twill crown your life with bliss
when you do to each this goal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem