Classic Poem

God having given Love, it cannot be
That he should take it. I am calm to wait
Till as a rosebud at his palace-gate
That unforgotten face of her I see, —
For this and nothing else shall come to me,
In this life or the next, or soon or late: —
I fall into the outspread arms of fate,
And — find they are the pleasant arms of thee!

Does God in heaven seek love and sigh for praise?
Neither is his from me, being left forlorn.
For so the double heart of God is torn
Asunder; and for any song I raise,
Deprived of his sweet tender winning ways,
It had been better had I not been born.