 | Love-Lore (1895) |  |
243
LAIS
For ever stumbling to a fall,
And still afraid to look behind,
Infirm of will, but wilful, all
Thy native gifts have sown the wind.
And still afraid to look behind,
Infirm of will, but wilful, all
Thy native gifts have sown the wind.
We found thy beauty but a lure,
Thy ready tongue a treacherous bait.
Thy love a fancy—to endure
So long as fickleness could wait.
Thy ready tongue a treacherous bait.
Thy love a fancy—to endure
So long as fickleness could wait.
High-placed as fair, with wit and sense,
Love was thine own and honour lent:
Hadst thou escaped incontinence,
Thy happier life had known content.
Love was thine own and honour lent:
Hadst thou escaped incontinence,
Thy happier life had known content.
| Love-Lore (1895) | |