The Triumph of Love By Edmond Holmes |
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 | The Triumph of Love |  |
XLVII
Art thou the happier for my hopeless love?Art thou the happier for its dumb despair?
Oh if thou art, despair will soar above
Hope's highest flight into love's azure air.
Art thou the happier for this hopeless quest,
This baffled dream, this unavailing strife?
Oh if thou art, my love will surely wrest
From failure victory, from death new life.
Art thou the happier for these wounds that hide
Even from my heart their pangs of mortal woe?
Oh if thou art, a fount of joy and pride
From every bleeding wound will ever flow.
Dear love! if thou art happier for my pain,
My stricken heart will not have ached in vain.
| The Triumph of Love | |