Читать книгу How She Felt in Her First Corset, and Other Poems - Alderson Matthew W. - Страница 5

Darling, I love thee! Other words might tell

A trifle of how dear thou art to me,

But these tell all. Of thee I might have said,

And said in truth, at that, that all thy ways,

Thine every motion, look and glance, as well,

Did charm the inmost recess of my soul:

In words of praise, and those in justice due,

I might the beauties of thy mind portray;

For they outrival charms that in thy face

I see, as elsewhere I have failed to find:

Thy modesty, thy grace, thy love of all

That tends to elevate, to purify,

And make a fellow mortal happier,

I might have dwelt on to a length that thou,

And thou alone, deserves from one whose pen

Is feeble in thy praise as is mine own.

Still, had I done so, and withheld the words,

"I love thee!" I had never told thee half.

I love thee, darling! Ah! indeed, I do!

Beyond the shadow of a doubt, I love,

And such a one as any prince or king

Might gladly love and proudly call his own.

But, come to think, this love is all I have:

No titled rank is mine – no Astor's wealth;

And one you know, can't live on love alone;

Ah, no! But better starve for lack of bread

Than want of love; for when we starve for bread,

And hunger knaws with all its well-known force,

A day and all desire for food grows weak,

And in its stead one craves but rest and sleep:

These come, and few the days ere dreamless sleep

Supplies the place of all desires and pains.

But, starve for love, and when doth come relief?

The weary soul still lives, or drags along —

As pris'ner doomed for life goes to his work;

Ambitionless it moves, its purpose dead,