Heloise to Abelard, 17

Do you, in slumber, sometimes stretch your arms
To clasp the yielding form of Heloise?
Do you recall my kisses and my charms?
Or have those pleasures lost their power to please?
Within these walls, I weep and ever weep.
This cloister echoes my rebellious cries:
Worn out with sorrow I relive in sleep
The unabating grief that never dies.
Shall Abelard, the all-entrancing theme,
Consume the soul that ought to seek God's throne?
How can I hope the Power I so blaspheme,
Will grant me pardon, or my sins condone?
Oh, you whose face I never more may see,
Have pity on my plight, and pray for me!
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