Читать книгу Poems - Julia C. R. Dorr - Страница 26

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I know not by what name to call thee, thou Who reignest supreme, sole sovereign of my heart! Thou who the lode-star of my being art, Thou before whom my soul delights to bow! What shall I call thee? Teach me some dear name Better than all the rest, that I may pour All that the years have taught me of love’s lore In one fond word. “Lover?” But that’s too tame, And “Friend”’s too cold, though thou art both to me. Art thou my King? Kings sit enthroned afar, And crowns less meet for love than reverence are, While both my heart gives joyfully to thee. Art thou—but, ah! I’ll cease the idle quest: I cannot tell what name befits thee best!