23.07.2007, 11:04
Are you the same? You love me as of old?
Lady, my love has turned from you no jot.
"Why lie to me? Your lip curls strangely cold."
Lady, I tell you all. My love has not
Abated by one hair's-breadth: but to-day
The world seems not so worthy of my hate;
And in life's dusty whirl of earthquake-play
A fairness glimmers that I saw not late.
Therefore to me, this day, you are not all;
Hopes and desires, in tumult long repressed,
Unto my ears send an articulate call,
And faith in living rules once more my breast.
"How interesting is life!--when love grows cold.
Beware if ever you love me as of old!" . . .
Lady, my love has turned from you no jot.
"Why lie to me? Your lip curls strangely cold."
Lady, I tell you all. My love has not
Abated by one hair's-breadth: but to-day
The world seems not so worthy of my hate;
And in life's dusty whirl of earthquake-play
A fairness glimmers that I saw not late.
Therefore to me, this day, you are not all;
Hopes and desires, in tumult long repressed,
Unto my ears send an articulate call,
And faith in living rules once more my breast.
"How interesting is life!--when love grows cold.
Beware if ever you love me as of old!" . . .