 | The Triumph of Love |  |
XXXIX
When thou art near me; when I hear thy voice;When thy dear eyes pour sunlight into mine;
My soul is far too happy to rejoice,
My heart too deeply stricken to repine.
Swifter than thought I pass from bliss to woe;—
Swifter than thought from blessedness to doom;
Each gleam of hope leaves as its after-glow
A deeper depth of more than midnight gloom.
For in the mystic dream-world of our souls
We kiss and clasp and mingle and are one:
But every wave of joy that earthward rolls
From that bright shore beyond our setting sun,
Baffled by Fate's reef-ramparts bleak and bare,
Breaks into foam and ruin and despair.
| The Triumph of Love | |