Impressions: A Book of Verse/She Loves
SHE LOVES
THERE is delight in loving, though no more
You claim my love and oceans roll between,
The waves that beat upon your distant shore
They wait not for your bidding. You have been
My friend for long; but since I did depart
You say you will not love, and for me sigh
But rather tear me quickly from your heart.
So be it, dear, God bless you and good-bye!
Yet there's delight in sorrow of love born
A fair sad moon from out a stormy sea
Rising above the sobbing waves and torn
By riband clouds across its face that flee—
Such grief for me, for you forgetfulness—
I ask no more, you cannot give me less!