Abelard to Heloise, 7

Knowing the years of our delight were past,
And those seductive days no more could lure,
I sought religion's fetters to make fast
The sinful heart that purposed to be pure.
In this seclusion, to conceal my shame:
In this asylum, to forget. Alas!
The very silence shouts aloud your name:
Through every sunbeam does your radiance pass.
I fled, to leave your image far behind,
I pictured you the enemy of hope,
Yet still I seek you, seek you in my mind,
And down the aisles of memory I grope.
I hate, I love, I pray, and I despair,
I blame myself, and grief is everywhere.
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