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Edna St. Vincent Millay

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After all, my earstwhile dear,
   My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
   Now that love is perished?
--
"Passer Mortuus Est", st. 3, Second April, 1921

 
Edna St. Vincent Millay

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If thou must love me, let it be for nought
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Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought
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For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
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No, it is not you I love so ardently,
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True love is not the helpless desire to possess the cherished object of one's fervent affection; true love is the disciplined generosity we require of ourselves for the sake of another when we would rather be selfish; that, at least, is how I have taught myself to love my wife.

 
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