The Rival Poem by Jan Struther

Dear, if my rival only were
A woman whom you found more fair,
A lust for wealth, a thirst for fame.
A creed, a dwelling-place, a game,
A long-lost dream, a long-tried friend-
O then I think that in the end,
Loving so much, I'd find some way to win you.
But not for these things burns the flame that's in you.
And there's no power in word or kiss
Against a rival such as this:
No charm, no weapon can I find-
God, how you love your peace of mind!