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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XIV. SYMPATHY DISPENSED WITH.
And if indeed I wear my soul away,And pour my heart out upon barren stones,
And vainly try to vivify dead bones,
And through dry deserts hunt a worthless prey;
If, disappointed, thus from men I stray,
And strive to find a meaning in the tones,
The half-heard whispers and the sullen moans,
In which unfeeling Nature seems to say,
But says most falsely, that in her doth dwell
A sympathetic beating of the heart,
Should then myself against myself rebel,
And dream of a self-centred life apart,
Myself shall blame myself: all may be well:
Love, without self-love soothes the bitterest smart.
February 8, 1857.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |