 | Grouped thoughts and scattered fancies |  |
LXXV.
LIFE IN LOVE.
Oh! what is there of magic in the name,That thus my heart should tremble,—though long years
Have pass'd, since, following that delusive flame,
I learn'd how little profit came from tears,—
How great the shame of weakness, what the scorn
Of power, at meek devotion,—and, how vain,
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To hope that nobler feelings may be born
In the tyrannic bosom!—Shall it be,
That, from the passion which has brought me shame,
The sacrifice of human hope and fame,
The Fates deny my spirit to go free?
Ah! wherefore love if thus?—but love reproves
The murmur,—since he lives alone who loves!
| Grouped thoughts and scattered fancies | |