A. J. Church

“ A love that wanes is as an ebbing tide,
Which slowly, inch by inch, and scarce perceived,
With many a wave that makes brave show to rise,
Fails from the shore. No sudden treason turns
The long-accustomed loyalty to hate,
But years bring weariness for sweet content,
And fondness, daily sustenance of love,
Which use should make a tribute easier paid,
First grudged, and then withholden, starves the heart ”

“ Through all thy ways, to bring to thee,
Or soon or late, thy wandering sons.
Content if slow they come, for sake
Of those they love, and loath to part
From what thou givest, thou dost take
The treasure lest thou lose the heart. ”