Reuben and Other Poems by Robert Leighton |
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Scene VI.
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 | Reuben and Other Poems |  |
151
Scene VI.
A Country Road.Reuben.
She is not lost—she is not lost to me—
Although another man may call her his.
What is it that possesses? 'Tis the mind.
These arms for this inner self can nothing hold;
And that I love in her, no hand can touch.
Is she not mine, then, since my mind is fill'd,
And all my bosom flooded with her being?
This light that lighteth me comes from her eyes,
And 'tis the light of soul that never sets:
I take her very spirit in as breath,
And seem to think, and feel, and speak, and act
By the high standard of her excellence.
Is she not mine? Who can possess her more?
Do we have life? Not more than I have her.
Although another man may call her his.
What is it that possesses? 'Tis the mind.
These arms for this inner self can nothing hold;
And that I love in her, no hand can touch.
Is she not mine, then, since my mind is fill'd,
And all my bosom flooded with her being?
This light that lighteth me comes from her eyes,
And 'tis the light of soul that never sets:
I take her very spirit in as breath,
And seem to think, and feel, and speak, and act
By the high standard of her excellence.
Is she not mine? Who can possess her more?
Do we have life? Not more than I have her.
A thing is ours to the extent of love
We put upon it. All this glorious earth
Is by that tenure held. Its landed lords
Are not a whit more lords of it than I.
As well lay out those blue domains of air
And call them theirs!—They would too, if they could—
But that they cannot—save by love, love, love.
We put upon it. All this glorious earth
Is by that tenure held. Its landed lords
Are not a whit more lords of it than I.
As well lay out those blue domains of air
And call them theirs!—They would too, if they could—
But that they cannot—save by love, love, love.
True love wastes not its object—love is lust
When it consumes; and therefore many hearts
May love one being, and that still remain
The all-sufficient object of their loves.
When it consumes; and therefore many hearts
May love one being, and that still remain
The all-sufficient object of their loves.
152
In this fine picture, this fair outer world,
Eliza, we shall never meet again!
Yet say I not adieu, for thou art here,
Here in the more abiding world of thought.
And what should part us now? The cease of love—
That only. Then have we for ever met;
Since this our passion, even at its height,
Pass'd from the world of death into mind's heaven,
Where all things are immortal. There I'll build
For thee a temple of my purest thoughts,
And christen it the Temple of Eliza;
That through all future time our love shall be
A sweet devotion and a joy to me.
Eliza, we shall never meet again!
Yet say I not adieu, for thou art here,
Here in the more abiding world of thought.
And what should part us now? The cease of love—
That only. Then have we for ever met;
Since this our passion, even at its height,
Pass'd from the world of death into mind's heaven,
Where all things are immortal. There I'll build
For thee a temple of my purest thoughts,
And christen it the Temple of Eliza;
That through all future time our love shall be
A sweet devotion and a joy to me.
[Exit.
| Reuben and Other Poems | |