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 | Eclogues and monodramas |  |
Then she, ‘Alas, my own and not my own!
I tremble in the presence of this hour,
Which parts or binds us all our doom of days
Till we are cold in earth, and summer-time
Is one with winter on the pulseless heart.
We plant weak vows eternal, else unroot
The slender threads which held us in a soil
Of rich delusion. Thine, O love, to choose:
On thee self-doubtful leaning I withhold
My wavering judgment: yet in one resolve
Most resolute am I, that if mistrust
Or fleck of unsure purpose touch thy wish
To cast in hand with mine this earthly time—
I will begone and see thy face no more,
And bear it patiently, as bear I can:
And better thus, than in my autumn days
To hang a clog about the neck I love
When this poor cheek has worn its freshness by.’
I tremble in the presence of this hour,
Which parts or binds us all our doom of days
Till we are cold in earth, and summer-time
Is one with winter on the pulseless heart.
We plant weak vows eternal, else unroot
The slender threads which held us in a soil
Of rich delusion. Thine, O love, to choose:
On thee self-doubtful leaning I withhold
My wavering judgment: yet in one resolve
Most resolute am I, that if mistrust
Or fleck of unsure purpose touch thy wish
To cast in hand with mine this earthly time—
I will begone and see thy face no more,
And bear it patiently, as bear I can:
And better thus, than in my autumn days
To hang a clog about the neck I love
When this poor cheek has worn its freshness by.’
| Eclogues and monodramas | |