A Mood of Love

Do I love thee? Who can tell?
Time was when I loved thee well:
Is this love that now I bear,
Or does Use Love's semblance wear?

Should I grieve if thou wert gone?
Should I miss thee, left alone?
Would the summer be less sweet
If our lips should never meet?

If some other fairer Fair
Fettered thee with silken snare,
Should I sorrow to behold
Thee her captive—mine of old?

Ah, it may be, should we part,
I should learn how dear thou art,—
When the gods withdraw we know
How divine the feet that go.