 | Fantasy and Passion |  |
67
SELF-DECEPTION.
Scorning my stubborn love, that can but see
Your stubborn scorn, that alters by no breath,
I shut my teeth and cry, “It shall not be!
I will not drag this shackle down to death!”
Your stubborn scorn, that alters by no breath,
I shut my teeth and cry, “It shall not be!
I will not drag this shackle down to death!”
And so I make a wall of absence rise
And grow between us, till at length I seem
To view my stormy past with stern surprise,
Bathed in the drowsy mezzo-tint of dream!
And grow between us, till at length I seem
To view my stormy past with stern surprise,
Bathed in the drowsy mezzo-tint of dream!
And after lapsing time there comes a day
When, proud of this calm strength that fills my breast,
I hear the very voice of courage say,
“Be bold, and put thy vaunted power to test!”
When, proud of this calm strength that fills my breast,
I hear the very voice of courage say,
“Be bold, and put thy vaunted power to test!”
We meet: through all my blood one thrill is sent,
And suddenly, in a moment, where I stand,
The illusive faith on which my life has leant
Cracks like a rotten staff beneath my hand!
And suddenly, in a moment, where I stand,
The illusive faith on which my life has leant
Cracks like a rotten staff beneath my hand!
And even as one that has been drugged with wine
And left by revellers on some couch to loll,
Love, with pale moaning lips, with eyes that shine,
Wakes in the shadowy chamber of my soul!
And left by revellers on some couch to loll,
Love, with pale moaning lips, with eyes that shine,
Wakes in the shadowy chamber of my soul!
| Fantasy and Passion | |