You tell me that you love me not
Yet still you lure me on -
And syren-like, you charm my soul,
Tho' all its hopes are gone;
You tell me that my faults are great,
Yet smile upon me still,
And snare me in your fairy web,
To more securely kill.
You tell me that your passions are
Too wild to be sincere-
Yet passion breathes in every sound
That from your lips I hear:
You tell me that my heart is light,
Oh say not so again,
Until you draw the arrow forth -
The cause of all my pain.
You say my faithful vows of love
Are hateful to your ear
Yet still your eyes, like summer skies,
Beam on me warm and clear;
You bid me seek another fair,
And strive to love again -
But look as tho' you surely know
The mandate is in vain.
You've bade each tender hope depart,
That smil'd around my soul -
Yet tempted them to linger still,
And war against control.
Yes, tho' your words have wrung my heart,
Your looks have seem'd to say
"Love on and you may yet perhaps,
Behold a brighter day."
________
|
Clare
Literature