The White Pilgrim and Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Turning the leaves in an idle way
Of a book I was skimming the other day,
I found a line at the end of a song,
Which keeps on haunting me all day long
With its sweet and mournful melody;
“O love, my love, had you loved but me!”
Sadder a burden could never be
Than “Love, my love, had you loved but me!”

Few words and simple; but oh, how much
The singer has told in that little touch!
How hard a story of chances lost,
Of bright hopes blighted and true love crossed,
Is heard in the whispered melody;
“O love, my love, had you loved but me!”
To many a sorrow the key may be
That “Love, my love, had you loved but me!”

144

I don't believe in what poets have said
Of hearts that are broken and lives that are dead;
Lives well ordered will stand to their course,
And hearts of true metal ring little the worse,
But they vibrate still to that melody;
“O love, my love, had you loved but me!”
My life is well; but what would it be,
Sweet “Love, my love, had you loved but me!”

The world rolls on and the years roll by,
Day-dreams vanish and memories die;
But it surges up with a restless pain.
That fond lost longing ever again,
Breathed in the passionate melody;
“O love, my love, had you loved but me!”
It might have been, but it cannot be!
Yet “Love, my love, had you loved but me!”