Love's Calendar; or, Eros and Anteros - Part 13
I ask not what shadow came over her heart
In the moment I thought her my own —
If love in that moment could really depart,
I mourn not such love when 'tis flown.
I ask not what shadow came over her then,
What doubt did her bosom appal,
For I know where her heart will turn truly again,
If it ever turn truly at all!
It is not at once that the reed-bird takes wing,
When the tide rises high round her nest,
But again and again, floating back, she will sing
O'er the spot where her love-treasures rest:
And oh, when the surge of distrust would invade,
Where the heart hoped for ever to dwell,
Love long upon loitering pinion is stay'd,
Ere his wing waves a mournful farewell.
In the moment I thought her my own —
If love in that moment could really depart,
I mourn not such love when 'tis flown.
I ask not what shadow came over her then,
What doubt did her bosom appal,
For I know where her heart will turn truly again,
If it ever turn truly at all!
It is not at once that the reed-bird takes wing,
When the tide rises high round her nest,
But again and again, floating back, she will sing
O'er the spot where her love-treasures rest:
And oh, when the surge of distrust would invade,
Where the heart hoped for ever to dwell,
Love long upon loitering pinion is stay'd,
Ere his wing waves a mournful farewell.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.