 | Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood |  |
LVIII. THE DEEPEST WRONG THAT THOU COULDST DO.
The deepest wrong that thou couldst do
Is thus to doubt my love for thee;
For, questioning that, thou question'st too
My truth, my pride, my purity.
Is thus to doubt my love for thee;
For, questioning that, thou question'st too
My truth, my pride, my purity.
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'Twere worse than falsehood thus to meet
Thy least caress, thy lightest smile,
Nor feel my heart exulting beat
With sweet, impassion'd joy the while.
Thy least caress, thy lightest smile,
Nor feel my heart exulting beat
With sweet, impassion'd joy the while.
The deepest wrong that thou couldst do
Is thus to doubt my faith profess'd;
How should I, love, be less than true
When thou art noblest, bravest, best?
Is thus to doubt my faith profess'd;
How should I, love, be less than true
When thou art noblest, bravest, best?
| Poems by Frances Sargent Osgood | |