Heloise to Abelard, 3

Before the altar, even, unrepenting,
I carry that lost dream with all its charms;
Again to love's dear overtures consenting,
I hear your voice, I seek your sheltering arms.
Again I know the rapture and the languor,
By fate forbidden and by vows debarred;
Nor can the thought of God in all His anger,
Drive from my heart the thought of Abelard.
My widowed nights, my days of rigorous duty,
My resignation of the world I knew,
My buried youth, my sacrifice of beauty,
Were all oblations offered up to you.
O Master, Husband, Father, let me move
With those fond names your heart to pitying love.
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