Abelard to Heloise, 9

I looked into the heaven of your eyes,
And dared the flames of hell: I heard you speak,
And strove no longer to be strong and wise—
Earth's rapture lay in being fond and weak.
Oh, paradox! that virtue like your own,
To guilty shame transformed a holy life,
And the entrancing music of your tone
Changed peaceful harmonies to jarring strife.
I would forget, and think that you forgot,
Our wild abandon and the sinful thrall
Of stolen hours of bliss. Oh, bid me not
The memory of those vanished days recall!
While you remember, how can I forget?
Or hope's star dawn, till passion's sun has set?
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