Poems (Taylor)/Love Speaketh
LOVE SPEAKETH
Why hast Thou given me these gyves to bear,And why this garment of white flame to wear?Anhungered for immortal beauty, mustI feed my longing on this burning dust?Loving the lilies, mid the tares I go,—Why dost Thou plague Thy dearest angel so?Cast in Thine image, moulded likest Thee,Thy donzellon, Thy troubadour to be,The dreamer of the rapture at the coreOf Thine own heart,—Oh! why, then, evermoreMust I pollute my fantasy unwistWith strange dim sin,—Love the Somnambulist, Driven to sacrilege on mine adored?—It is not well, it is not welly O Lord!I yearn to Thee from out the blinding sands;And lo! Thy stigmata upon mine hands.Yet, as I pray, my feet take hold on hell.It is not well, O Lord, it is not well!