I think I love you less than yesterday
And loving less, the joy now found is this:
When fascination dies, what lives instead
Is knowing, knowing loving, loving lives.
What weed is "crush" that calls itself new love?
For love like that is fluff, unfettered, clouds;
It comes, it goes, it follows none but chance.
That weed is crushed beneath this new sapling--
An oak is planted, young but strong and good.
And while my heart no longer flutters when
You sit beside me and you take my hand
I love this new love, knowing it will last.
So while I love you less than yesterday,
Today our love is more than fools at play.