Love: what is love;
That fascinating power, divine,
Which fills the heart with thoughts sublime,
Which causes men to tear their hair,
Which brings delight and brings despair
Into the peaceful mind?
In vain, in vain, I've delved to find,
To fathom from its mystic rhyme,
As down the stealthy roll of time
It spreads its blessings o'er mankind,
Or, laughing wildly at his fear,
Sends down its vengeance, year by year,
The incantations of this word
Which, though I sleep, are ever heard.
Perchance, some mortal who has found
Himself within this magic mound
Of uninvited thought can give
The explanation of this myth
Which has, by its unwonted skill,
Defied the universe at will
For these long years.
May. 1896.
No comments:
Post a Comment