I HAVE loved thee, beloved, so long and well,
So wholly hath my life belong'd to thee
And been thy daily breathings and thy thoughts (
My body and my mind alike thyself),
That there is somewhat not to be believed
In this thou tellest me, some dread mistake,
An error scarce ascribable to thee. —
If thou hast done this death unto my heart,
Hast plighted troth to any other troth
Than mine, assuredly a wrong is wrought
Beyond imagination. For thy soul
Hath taken from me my soul without consent.
I DREAM not that thou plightedst e'er thy troth
To me or gavest assurance to my love
Of loving recompense. But thou didst hold
Thy whole life open to my worship of it
Beyond least let or hindrance evermore,
Giving assurance that I still might love.
Nay, worse ; thou knewest that I, loving thee thus,
Rightly were self-assured. — When the first flash
Of flame toward that other took fire in thee,
Thou shouldst have borne thy share of sacrifice
A little, and stifled an unseemliness ;
Not now demand me that I face thy fault.
I AM pass'd-master in the art to evade
Full fall of disappointment : being in want
From my youth up of many a subterfuge,
If I would go uncrazed from dawn to dawn.
I had devised a Self wherein thy joy
Might semblance bear as 't were my very own
By much sophistication. I might learn
To dwell, despite heart's lethal injury,
In contemplation of thine happiness
Entering into mine unhappy heart
And still sustaining me about thy world.
But now my limbs swoon vague upon the earth.
No comments:
Post a Comment