The Triumph of Love | ||
XLV
Because my soul was strong enough to yieldTo the dear might of love's constraining grace;
Because I asked not what the years concealed,
But staked my life, my all on thy sweet face;
Because I bared my bosom to love's dart,
And bade its poison throb through every vein;
Because with desperate and dauntless heart
I drew fresh life from every stab of pain;—
Because I served Love thus and wrought his will,
He bade me name my recompense; and I,
Made bold by joy, cried out “O Love! fulfil
This prayer that, purified by agony,
Schooled by despair, my heart may worthier grow
To wear thy wound-imprinting crown of woe.”
The Triumph of Love | ||