Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/108

Couldst thou being holy and God, and sinful she,
Love her indeed as surely she loved thee?
Nay, but if not, then as we sinners can
Let us love still in the old sad wise of man.
For with less love than my love, having had
Mine, though God love him he shall not be glad.
And with such love as my love, I wot well,
He shall not lie disconsolate in hell:
Sad only as souls for utter love's sake be
Here, and a little sad, perchance, for me—
Me happy, me more glad than God above,
In the utmost hell whose fires consume not love!
For in the waste ways emptied of the sun
He would say—"Dear, thy place is void, and one
Weeps among angels for thee, with his face
Veiled, saying, O sister, how thy chosen place
Stands desolate, that God made fair for thee!
Is heaven not sweeter, and we thy brethren, we
Fairer than love on earth and life in hell?"
And I—with me were all things then not well?
Should I not answer—"O love, be well content;
Look on me, and behold if I repent."
This were more to me than an angel's wings.
Yea, many men pray God for many things,
But I pray that this only thing may be.'
And as a full field charging was the sea,
And as the cry of slain men was the wind.
'Yea, since I surely loved him, and he sinned
Surely, though not as my sin his be black,
God, give him to me—God, God, give him back!