Alice Meynell (Элис Мейнелл)

Why Wilt Thou Chide?

Why wilt thou chide,
        Who has attained to be denied?
O learn, above
All price is my refusal, Love.
        My sacred Nay
Was never cheapened by the way.
Thy single sorrow crowns thee lord
Of an unpurchasable word.

        O strong, O pure!
As Yea makes happier loves secure,
        I vow thee this
Unique rejection of a kiss.
    I guard for thee
This jealous sad monopoly.
I seal this honour thine; none dare
Hope for a part in thy despair.

1. To Antiquity
2. The October Redbreast
3. The Lover Urges the Better Thrift
4. Advent Meditation
5. To the Body

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1888

Последние стихотворения

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