Abelard to Heloise, 11

This mortal love, when dwelt upon with joy,
The love of God may not annihilate.
Oh, would you with old memories destroy
My piety, in its incipient state?
My vows to God grow feeble, in the war
With thoughts of you, and Duty's voices die,
Unanswered, down my soul's dark corridor,
While in my heart is passion's desperate cry.
And can you hear confessions such as these,
And thrust your love between my God and me?
Withdraw yourself, unhappy Heloise,
Be Heaven's alone, and let my life go free.
Drain sorrow's chalice, bravely take your cross;
To win back God, lies through the creature's loss.
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.