 | Poems by Hartley Coleridge |  |
108
TO ---
I love thee—none may know how well,
And yet—I would not have thee love me;
To thy good heart 'twere very hell,
To love me dear, and not approve me.
And yet—I would not have thee love me;
To thy good heart 'twere very hell,
To love me dear, and not approve me.
Whate'er thou lov'st it is not thine,
But 'tis thyself—then sad it were, love,
If thou for every sin of mine,
Should weep, repent,—mayhap, despair—love.
But 'tis thyself—then sad it were, love,
If thou for every sin of mine,
Should weep, repent,—mayhap, despair—love.
Then love me not—thou can'st not scorn;
And mind—I do not bid thee hate me;
And if I die, oh, do not mourn,
But if I live, do new create me.
And mind—I do not bid thee hate me;
And if I die, oh, do not mourn,
But if I live, do new create me.
| Poems by Hartley Coleridge | |