Love Letters of a Violinist, and Other Poems

by Eric Mackay

Is't well to visit me with thy disdain,

And rack my soul, because, for love of thee,

I was too prone to sink upon my knee,

And too intent to make my meaning plain,

And too resolved to make my loss a gain

To do thee good, by Love's immortal plea?

III.

O friend! forgive me for my dream of bliss.

Forgive: forget; be just! Wilt not forgive?