The New Love by Ella Wheeler Wilcox — Read

I thought my heart was death chilled, / I thought its fires were cold; / But the new love, the new love, / It warmeth like the old.

I thought its rooms were shadowed / With the gloom of endless night; / But the new love, the new love, / It fills them full of light.

I thought the chambers empty, / And proclaimed it unto men; / But the new love, the new love, / It peoples them again.

I thought its halls were silent, / And hushed the whole day long; / But the new love, the new love, / It fills them full of song.

Then here is to the new love, / Let who will sing the old; / The new love, the new love, / 'Tis more than fame or gold.

For it gives us joy for sorrow, / And it gives us warmth for cold; / Oh! the new love, the new love, / 'Tis better than the old.