Читать книгу Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 26, August, 1880 - Various - Страница 6

She is thine own at last, O faithful soul!

The love that changed not with the changing years

Hath its reward: Desire's strong prayers and tears

Fall useless since thy hand hath touched the goal.

See how she yieldeth up to thy control

Each mystery of her beauty: enter, thou,

A vanquished victor. None can disavow

Thy royal, love-bought right unto the whole

Of love's rich feast. Oh outspread golden hair,

White brow, red lips whereon thy lips are set

With rapturous thrills undreamed of, past compare!

Oh ecstasy of bliss! And yet—and yet—

What doth it profit thee that every part

Is thine except the little wayward heart?