Song
I BADE thee stay. Too well I know
The fault was mine,—mine only:
I dared not think upon the past,
All desolate and lonely.
I feared in memory's silent air
Too sadly to regret thee,—
Feared in the night of my despair
I could not all forget thee.
Yet go,—ah, go! those pleading eyes,
Those low, sweet tones, appealing
From heart to heart,—ah, dare I trust
That passionate revealing?
For ah, those dark and pleading eyes
Evoke too keen a sorrow,—
A pang that will not pass away,
With thy wild vows, to-morrow.
A love immortal and divine
Within my heart is waking:
Its dream of anguish and despair
It owns not but in breaking.
The fault was mine,—mine only:
I dared not think upon the past,
All desolate and lonely.
I feared in memory's silent air
Too sadly to regret thee,—
Feared in the night of my despair
I could not all forget thee.
Yet go,—ah, go! those pleading eyes,
Those low, sweet tones, appealing
From heart to heart,—ah, dare I trust
That passionate revealing?
For ah, those dark and pleading eyes
Evoke too keen a sorrow,—
A pang that will not pass away,
With thy wild vows, to-morrow.
A love immortal and divine
Within my heart is waking:
Its dream of anguish and despair
It owns not but in breaking.
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