The Triumph of Love By Edmond Holmes |
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 | The Triumph of Love |  |
XVII
Yet is it well that thou art still a dream,A dear desire, a message from afar,
A name that haunts my thought, a wayward gleam
Of tremulous light, a ray from some lone star;—
And well it is that I may never guess
Thy heart's profoundest secret, never know
What hidden flame inspires thy loveliness,
What tides of passion bear thee to and fro:—
And well that in the temple of my heart
Despair hath built a shrine where, night and day,
Love's votive lamp reveals thee as thou art,
And scares profaning hopes and prayers away!
For love that lives in love's delight must die,
But love's despair is love's eternity.
| The Triumph of Love | |