The Triumph of Love By Edmond Holmes |
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 | The Triumph of Love |  |
XLII
What consolation or what recompenseAwaits the heart whose passion is its doom?
What possible delight of soul or sense
Could make atonement for its pain and gloom?
Ah! when the heart is stretched upon love's cross,
It asks for nothing; for it knows too well
That all the treasures of the earth are dross,
That, when love's light is darkness, Heaven is Hell.
O lonely heart, love on, nor count the cost,—
Love on, without a hope, without a sign:
Though all life's prizes, all life's joys be lost,
If love remains, the whole, wide world is thine;—
For love re-lights in sorrow's last abyss
The lamp that floods the whole wide world with bliss.
| The Triumph of Love | |