Treasure

There is no treasure greater than your love,
However rich or bountiful your life.
It is the spring that wells up in your garden,
Replenishing the mother and the wife;
The joy that makes a pleasure of your burden,
Yielding happiness that time will prove.

Nor is love proof against travail and strife.
Instead, it is but tears with yearning laden,
Nile through the desert, green and brazen,
Edged with life, where all things near might bloom.