Текст оригинала на английском языке
I MEANT to be so strong and true! The world may smile and question, When? But what I might have been to you I cannot be to other men. Just one in twenty to the rest, And all in all to you alone, -- This was my dream; perchance 'tis best That this, like other dreams, is flown. For you I should have been so kind, So prompt my spirit to control, To win fresh vigor for my mind, And purer beauties for my soul; Beneath your eye I might have grown To that divine, ideal height, Which, mating wholly with your own, Our equal spirits should unite. To others I am less than naught; To you I might have been so much, Could but your calm, discerning thought Have put my powers to the touch! Your love had made me doubly fair; Your wisdom made me thrice as wise, Lent clearer lustre to my hair, And read new meanings in my eyes. Ah, yes, to you I might have been That happy being, past recall, The slave, the helpmeet, and the queen, -- All these in one, and one in all. But that which I had dreamed to do I learned too late was dreamed in vain, For what I might have been to you I cannot be to other men.
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