 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
60
MY OWN DART.
I love Love, therefore am I far apartFrom Love—because she's everything to me
The less am I allowed her face to see,
The less am able to outpour my heart,
Permitted less to ease its aching smart
And low to fall and say, “I worship thee;”
If I loved less the fates would gracious be,
But loving much transfixed by mine own dart
Of over great anxiety I die;
I cannot get to clutch the thing I would,
If it were possible—ah! if I could
Attain to it, extended in a sigh
My being, all of it, would prostrate lie,
Fainting for joy at such a gainèd good!
| Poems and Sonnets | |