 | Lays of Leisure Hours |  |
397
LOVE ME NOT!
Love me not!—love me not!—I could not be
A sorrow and a bitterness to thee,
I would not be thy chastisement, thy doom,
And shouldst thou love me, such must I become!
A sorrow and a bitterness to thee,
I would not be thy chastisement, thy doom,
And shouldst thou love me, such must I become!
Thou, whose glad path with starry beams is lit,
Canst little guess how gloomily unfit
A dark deep Spirit like mine own must prove
For Love's light dream—for the sweet sway of Love!
Canst little guess how gloomily unfit
A dark deep Spirit like mine own must prove
For Love's light dream—for the sweet sway of Love!
I would not haunt thee with mysterious gloom,
Nor cast o'er thee the shadows of my doom,
Nor teach thee the misdoubtings, the mistrust
With which I look on all things that are dust.
Nor cast o'er thee the shadows of my doom,
Nor teach thee the misdoubtings, the mistrust
With which I look on all things that are dust.
398
And all I see and meet still seems to me
To share the dust of my mortality,
Hope is a flutterer that just forward flies,
Then folds her fairy wings and falls and dies.
To share the dust of my mortality,
Hope is a flutterer that just forward flies,
Then folds her fairy wings and falls and dies.
Love is but selfishness in lovelier shape,
A struggle from our suffering solves to 'scape,
And to avoid the storms by which we're tossed,
And so 'twill last—till the illusion's lost!
A struggle from our suffering solves to 'scape,
And to avoid the storms by which we're tossed,
And so 'twill last—till the illusion's lost!
Love me not!—love me not!—look not on me
If thou would'st happy and unchastened be,
A penalty of suffering thou should'st pay
For such fond rashness—smile that dream away.
If thou would'st happy and unchastened be,
A penalty of suffering thou should'st pay
For such fond rashness—smile that dream away.
Shall the controlling check of my dark fear
Bid thy hope fade—and shall the untimely tear
From my dim melancholy joyless eye
Melt thy young spirit's worlds of phantasy?
Bid thy hope fade—and shall the untimely tear
From my dim melancholy joyless eye
Melt thy young spirit's worlds of phantasy?
399
Aye! all thy fancy's fabrics of delight
That shine so beautiful in Hope's charmed sight—
Love me not, gentle One, or these thou'lt lose,
As lose the flowers at noon, morn's freshening dews.
That shine so beautiful in Hope's charmed sight—
Love me not, gentle One, or these thou'lt lose,
As lose the flowers at noon, morn's freshening dews.
Love me not!—love me not!—I could not bear
To bend thee nearer earth with doubt and care,
That lovely head was never meant to droop—
Uplifted now so gloriously in hope.
To bend thee nearer earth with doubt and care,
That lovely head was never meant to droop—
Uplifted now so gloriously in hope.
Leave me to mine own dark and dismal fate,
And move thou on triumphant and elate
In gladness and in freedom—move thou on
In peace and pleasure—leave me lorn and lone!
And move thou on triumphant and elate
In gladness and in freedom—move thou on
In peace and pleasure—leave me lorn and lone!
Withdraw from me thine every gentle thought,
Say not that once thy dear regard I sought;
I met an angel on my shadowy way,
And paused a moment—charmed into delay.
Say not that once thy dear regard I sought;
I met an angel on my shadowy way,
And paused a moment—charmed into delay.
400
Ah! me, that sweetest moment I forgot
The dire and desperate sorrows of my lot—
But woke full soon to their remembrance back,
And silently pursued my lonely track.
The dire and desperate sorrows of my lot—
But woke full soon to their remembrance back,
And silently pursued my lonely track.
Love me not!—love me not!—look not on me,
Leave me—and be the happiest of the free—
Say, could it cheer me or console to know
Thou wert the sharer of my hopeless woe?
Leave me—and be the happiest of the free—
Say, could it cheer me or console to know
Thou wert the sharer of my hopeless woe?
Deem'st thou thy love could win me from my grief?
It might, but for a season short and brief,
And heavier should recoil upon my head—
The undying sorrows and the sufferings dread!
It might, but for a season short and brief,
And heavier should recoil upon my head—
The undying sorrows and the sufferings dread!
Oh! love me not!—my heart is full of fear,
New forms of terror to my view appear,
Fate threatens me, and all around me grows
Darker and darker in this waste of woes!
New forms of terror to my view appear,
Fate threatens me, and all around me grows
Darker and darker in this waste of woes!
401
And would'st thou have me unto thee reveal
Why this reluctance of distrust I feel—
Must I to thee the hidden truth unfold?
Ah! better far to mask it and withhold!
Why this reluctance of distrust I feel—
Must I to thee the hidden truth unfold?
Ah! better far to mask it and withhold!
Yet, since thou will'st it—let me own to thee
Why thus I tremble at thy love for me,
To thee the painful truth with candour tell,
It is because I love thee—but too well!
Why thus I tremble at thy love for me,
To thee the painful truth with candour tell,
It is because I love thee—but too well!
Because too well—too well I love thee still—
And fain would spare thee every earthly ill;
And know I not that loving me must call
On thy devoted head Earth's miseries all?
And fain would spare thee every earthly ill;
And know I not that loving me must call
On thy devoted head Earth's miseries all?
Ah? know I not that loving me must bring
To thy devoted heart each keenest sting,
Each deadliest dart of suffering and of pain—
And clasp round thee my harsh and heavy chain.
To thy devoted heart each keenest sting,
Each deadliest dart of suffering and of pain—
And clasp round thee my harsh and heavy chain.
402
I could not live—I could not live and know
Thou wert the sharer of my wasting woe;
Then, then farewell to pride and to disdain
Which arm me now to grapple with my pain!
Thou wert the sharer of my wasting woe;
Then, then farewell to pride and to disdain
Which arm me now to grapple with my pain!
Then should I grow the weakest of the weak,
The changing colour on thy perfect cheek,
The gathering moisture in thy matchless eye,
Should crush my soul with sick despondency.
The changing colour on thy perfect cheek,
The gathering moisture in thy matchless eye,
Should crush my soul with sick despondency.
And it would be so! Oh! I know—I feel
The griefs ev'n thou must fail to soothe or heal,
Would pierce me through thy heart with ten-fold force,
But spare me dear affection's fond remorse!
The griefs ev'n thou must fail to soothe or heal,
Would pierce me through thy heart with ten-fold force,
But spare me dear affection's fond remorse!
In that affection's name I pray thee spare—
My wounded spirit dreads this worst despair—
Nor seek to know what are the griefs which stand
'Twixt thee and me—that wave the flaming brand!
My wounded spirit dreads this worst despair—
Nor seek to know what are the griefs which stand
'Twixt thee and me—that wave the flaming brand!
433
Thy gentler heart were withered by the shock,
The bare crags of the thunder-blasted rock
Have little left to suffer or to dread—
Death hath no farther terrors for the Dead!
The bare crags of the thunder-blasted rock
Have little left to suffer or to dread—
Death hath no farther terrors for the Dead!
But Oh! from gay Prosperity's fair heights
Swift to be hurled, to endure sharp Sorrow's blights,
Yet fresh from joy's own soft and sunny clime
This, this were anguish—shun it then in time.
Swift to be hurled, to endure sharp Sorrow's blights,
Yet fresh from joy's own soft and sunny clime
This, this were anguish—shun it then in time.
Love me not!—love me not!—Oh! hear my prayer,
And leave me, to my doom of lonely care,
Let me but know that cloudless, smiles thy lot—
For thy sake, and for my sake—love me not!
And leave me, to my doom of lonely care,
Let me but know that cloudless, smiles thy lot—
For thy sake, and for my sake—love me not!
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