 | The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves |  |
SHE IS MY LOVE
She is my love beyond all thought,
Though she has wrought my deepest dole;
Yet dearer for the cruel pain
Than one who fain would make me whole.
Though she has wrought my deepest dole;
Yet dearer for the cruel pain
Than one who fain would make me whole.
She is my glittering gem of gems,
Who yet contemns my fortune bright;
Whose cheek but glows with redder scorn
Since mine has worn a stricken white.
Who yet contemns my fortune bright;
Whose cheek but glows with redder scorn
Since mine has worn a stricken white.
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She is my sun and moon and star,
Who yet so far and cold doth keep,
She would not even o'er my bier
One tender tear of pity weep.
Who yet so far and cold doth keep,
She would not even o'er my bier
One tender tear of pity weep.
Into my heart unsought she came,
A wasting flame, a haunting care;
Into my heart of hearts, ah! why?
And left a sigh for ever there.
A wasting flame, a haunting care;
Into my heart of hearts, ah! why?
And left a sigh for ever there.
| The Irish Poems of Alfred Perceval Graves | |