The Triumph of Love By Edmond Holmes |
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 | The Triumph of Love |  |
III
O love, that ever wooed art never won,—While thou wast yet a dream, I knew thy light,
Streaming from Heaven, had kindled star and sun,
And that beyond thee all was death and night.
Now thou art near: my brow has felt thy kiss;
My bosom beats obedient to thy will;
Thy flame enfolds me:—yet a dread abyss,
A gulf of doom holds us asunder still.
And dreaming of thy face, which none may see,
With prayer and hope I sought life's only prize;
But now thy face, with its epipnany
Of more than beauty, blinds my dazzled eyes,—
And, far beyond the reach of hope or prayer,
Bids me pursue it with my heart's despair.
| The Triumph of Love | |