Part 5 (2/2)

Thus fools, impatient of G.o.d's silence, cry: There is no G.o.d!--and seek what they deny.

Love Within Vows

We love, and O! we know it; yet Love's name Upon our lips a tremulous wish must die; We both were made for loving, you and I, And still was Love denied. To both it came, More fleeting than the beauty of a flame: Now each within the other's hungering eye Beholds the corse of Joy embalmed lie, And smiles to know his penury the same.

There is no sorrow in this love, O Friend, New-sprung from ruin, tho' our lips be sealed By silence and the world's hard fetter. Dear To me your being; yet we know nor fear Of loss nor of possession; here's a s.h.i.+eld Shall part us n.o.bly faithful to the end.

The Exile

You too mistook me; for no man is wise Whom Love enclouds. Nor soul-piercing nor keen Your vision, else there never would have been A cause for parting. Love-enwrapped, your eyes Failed in my love Love's self to recognise: You saw its outer garment, where the green Of perfect faith was marred by pa.s.sion's sheen, By outworn patience and desire's disguise.

Had you but read me to the inner soul, You would have held me fast. I can forego All that is sought of hand and lip, the whole Of Love's poor joy. But I have need to know That, when the heart fails, I may come and rest My head upon your wide and sheltering breast.

The Scar Indelible

O your voice, your voice in the night!

How shall I wipe your voice from the night?

Only Hope could wipe it away-- And you have driven Hope away.

O your eyes, your eyes in my sight!

How shall I hide your eyes from my sight?

Only Joy could hide them away, And you have driven Joy away.

O your name, your name in the light!

How shall I thrust your name from the light?

Only Love could thrust it away, And you have driven Love away.

Revulsion

My heart is weary of Love and Hate: Too sick of its Love to love you still, Too sick of its Hate to hate you yet-- My heart is weary and would forget.

O give me nothing! 'Tis far too late: Your much were little my thirst to fill, Your little were scorn of Faith so deep-- O give me nothing!--and let me sleep.

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