Poems (Linn)/Hero
HERO.
WHY weep fair Hero, on the Thracian shore?
Is he not true? Although his hand is cold
It is in yours. His love will not grow old:
You have him now and can you ask for more?
Cease then in tears your sorrow to outpour:
His last and dying thought was all for you:
To your sweet kiss his lips were ever true,
And he has come at last, as oft before.
Oh! better far, fair Hero, this cold face,
These icy lips, these unresponsive eyes;
Oh! better far this death in love and youth
When life is full of purity and grace,
Than blasted hopes, and doubts, and living lies,
Than life with broken faith and base untruth.
Is he not true? Although his hand is cold
It is in yours. His love will not grow old:
You have him now and can you ask for more?
Cease then in tears your sorrow to outpour:
His last and dying thought was all for you:
To your sweet kiss his lips were ever true,
And he has come at last, as oft before.
Oh! better far, fair Hero, this cold face,
These icy lips, these unresponsive eyes;
Oh! better far this death in love and youth
When life is full of purity and grace,
Than blasted hopes, and doubts, and living lies,
Than life with broken faith and base untruth.