University of Virginia Library


268

[Though words of ice be spoken]

Though words of ice be spoken
And tears of fire be shed,
It seems Love's heart is broken,
And yet he is not dead:
Whate'er the wild voice utters
He breathes a still reply;
A bird he is; he flutters
And yet can never fly.
Unchecked he came, unbidden;
Unnamed, unknown, he grew;
He wove, unsought, unchidden,
His old, old charm anew;
And now, though tears upbraid him,
He smiles and has his way;
A god he is! we made him,
And yet we cannot slay.