AND now what hope have I to touch thine heart,
As the new year brings joy to every land?
What chance is there that thou shouldst understand
That which defies my power to impart
To thy dear self its meaning, though I start
To win anew with love thy treasured hand?
Like some uncertain pebble on the sand,
I find me now, tossed by the waves that part.
Oh! canst thou not, sweet pearl upon the ocean
Of love’s resistless power to possess
All men in its divine and fair embrace,
Perceive my unmistakable devotion
To thy sweet self, and give but one caress
That might so easily thy presence grace?
XL
HOW often have I asked, through this past year,
If all that I have suffered did repay
My fleeting joy of Heaven for a day;
That made thy soul at once to me more dear
Than all else in the whole wide world. I fear
That, in my heart, I may not truly say
It brought Love’s recompense within its way,
Or caused the lowering of Love’s sky to clear.
And yet, although thou wouldst misuse my love,
Without apparently one real regret,
How shall I, loving as I do, despair
That thou mayst still, some happy day, disprove
The charge that stains thy name: soon to forget
That which thou wert the first one to declare?
XLI
METHINKS the saddest of all pains to bear
Are those which break in twain the lover’s heart,
Which cling to life when love from life doth part,
And cause it to take sorrow for its share.
In vain do men go forth, in dim despair,
Seeking to extricate Love’s poisoned dart
From some dark spot whence it would not depart,
And still return to find it fastened there.
O god of Love! Some mercy to thy swains
Show in the hours of agony they feel!
Couldst thou but suffer half they do endure,
Or feel in part the measure of their pains;
With something, thou wouldst try their wounds to heal,
Or else endeavor thy disease to cure!
XLII
AS the wild waves roll o’er some rock-bound coast,
And break in futile effort to possess
Something beyond their reach, I must confess
Am I in my fierce passion, that can boast
No more of thee than surging seas at most
Do find as they rebound in their distress,
Half-clothed in weeds and winter’s sombre dress;
So often have I thought thy love was lost!
Yet, at one little word or smile from thee,
These winter storms do change to summer seas,
And I am softened in a moment’s time.
So would the magic of thyself give me
A sweeter sentiment, that still doth please
More than the summits of desire to climb.
XLIII
WHILE sad at heart, that thou wilt not give me
Thy treasured self, more often than the time
Of every year doth change; thy lover’s crime
I still may countervail, while I do see
Thy lovely form once more, enclosing thee
Reclining in my arms, and leave sad rhyme
For power to rejoice, that love sublime
Hath still returned again to solace me.
If not thyself, let that remembrance come:
The holiest hour that I have known in life,
When all I felt were God and Heaven and thee,
To still remain, when thou dost leave my home,
That without thee is only a sad strife
’Twixt my desire and that which cannot be.