Читать книгу Verses - Coolidge Susan - Страница 5

  Love me for what I am, Love. Not for sake

  Of some imagined thing which I might be,

  Some brightness or some goodness not in me,

  Born of your hope, as dawn to eyes that wake

  Imagined morns before the morning break.

  If I, to please you (whom I fain would please),

  Reset myself like new key to old tune,

  Chained thought, remodelled action, very soon

  My hand would slip from yours, and by degrees

  The loving, faulty friend, so close to-day,

  Would vanish, and another take her place,—

  A stranger with a stranger's scrutinies,

  A new regard, an unfamiliar face.

  Love me for what I am, then, if you may;

  But, if you cannot,—love me either way.