I.
O Lady mine! O Lady of my Life!
Mine and not mine, a being of the sky
Turn'd into Woman, and I know not why—
Is't well, bethink thee, to maintain a strife
With thy poor servant? War unto the knife,
Because I greet thee with a lover's eye?
II.
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?
Not though my tears should fall, as through a sieve
The salt sea-sand? What joy hast thou in this:
To be a maid, and marvel at a kiss?
Say! Must I die, to prove that I can live?
IV.
Shall this be so? E'en this? And all my love
Wreck'd in an instant? No, a gentle heart
Beats in thy bosom; and the shades depart
From all fair gardens, and from skies above,
When thou art near. For thou art like a dove,
And dainty thoughts are with thee where thou art.
V.
Oh! it is like the death of dearest kin,
To wake and find the fancies of the brain
Sear'd and confused. We languish in the strain
Of some lost music, and we find within,
Deep in the heart, the record of a sin,
The thrill thereof, and all the blissful pain.