A Brief History, in Three Parts, With a Sequel

Part I — Love

A GLANCE—a thought—a blow—
    It stings him to the core.
  A question—will it lay him low?
    Or will time heal it o’er?

He kindles at the name—
    He sits and thinks apart;
  Time blows and blows it to a flame,
    Burning within his heart.

He loves it though it burns,
    And nurses it with care;
  He feels the blissful pain by turns
    With hope, and with despair.