[Poems by Wilde in] Richard Henry Wilde | ||
[If it be love, in every pulse's tide]
If it be love, in every pulse's tide
To feel a secret pure devoted flame
And with feign'd smiles unceasing torture hide
Deep in the soul—my passion has a name!
To feel a secret pure devoted flame
And with feign'd smiles unceasing torture hide
Deep in the soul—my passion has a name!
If it be love, to live but in one thought,
To breathe but for another—weal or woe
Only to feel when from another caught
This, this is Love! ... I feared it must be so!
To breathe but for another—weal or woe
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This, this is Love! ... I feared it must be so!
If it be Love, to worship night and day
One object—On a fond heart's faithful shrine
All our life's hopes and fears and joys to lay
In silent sacrifice—such love is mine.
One object—On a fond heart's faithful shrine
All our life's hopes and fears and joys to lay
In silent sacrifice—such love is mine.
If it be love, our being to consume
In unknown, fruitless, uncomplaining tears,
And wish in bitterness an early tomb
Then I have cherished hopeless love for years!
In unknown, fruitless, uncomplaining tears,
And wish in bitterness an early tomb
Then I have cherished hopeless love for years!
[Poems by Wilde in] Richard Henry Wilde | ||