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Poem	When your love begins to wane, Spare me from the cruel pain Of all speech that tells me so - Spare me words, for I shall know, By the half-averted eyes, By the breast that no more sighs By the rapture I shall miss From your strangely-altered kiss; By the arms that still enfold But have lost their clinging hold, And, too willing, let me go, I shall know, love, I shall know. Bitter will the knowledge be, Bitterer than death to me. Yet, 'twill come to me some day, For it is sad world's way. Make no vows - vows cannot bind Changing hearts of wayward mind. Men grow weary of a bliss Passionate and fond as this. Love will wane. But I shall know, If you do not tell me so. Know it, tho' you smile and say, That you love me more each day. Know it by the inner sight That forever sees aright. Words could not but increase my woe, And without them, I shall know.
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