The satyr nature riots in my blood. "Of the earth, earthy!" I in vain exclaim.
These blows of fate that shake our troubled life, This long, long sorrow o'er our parted fate,
Darling, to say I love thee, is to say What I have often said, with careless arm
These gusts of passion blown in many a mood Through heart and spirit and conceiving brain,
Within our lips is stored the bitterness Of the dread tree that made the meadow's bleat
My Darling's temper is beyond compare, Tender and gentle in its will to me;
To watch the night out is a dreary thing: To muse and sorrow o'er my desperate lot,
Erewhile I lived in shows and hollow masks, I played with falsehood which I counted truth,
By thy own truth, Beloved, I am true! I swear by that in which I most believe;
The swell and glitter of this stately stave Are tinsel trappings of but little worth;
Love sat at ease upon Time's bony knee; Pulled his grey beard; paddled his finger-tips
So long have paused the strings across my lute, So many streams of bitterness have run
Trial on trial we must meet and brave, Temptation on temptation overcome.
I sometimes feel so lonely! O my God, I sometimes feel as though the race of man
I strive to live my life in whitest truth, Even in the face of this deceitful world;
Sweet, when thy brow becomes the haunted spot Of Death's grim heralds, care and wasting pain,
There blew a breeze across the flowers, that said, "Love is the sweetest thing which mortals know!"
As stands a statue on its pedestal, Amidst the storms of civil mutiny,
I cannot liken thee to any flower, As they of old, the master poets, chose
The pearly vales that circled round her breast Were laced with azure veins; the roseate glow
El paso no, del Dios, sino la huella escrita entre las líneas de la piedra
As some new ghost, that wanders to and fro By dreary Lethe, turns his vacant eyes,
When I remember, Love, the happy hours That came too rarely, and appeared too brief,
My darling, now the slumber of the night Lies on thy eyelids, and thy guiltless heart
If we were fashioned to be ignorant, And frisk and frolic with the kid and fawn,
The years repeat themselves; and now, once more, The day that gave my darling birth is here;
I will not have our holy love profaned By that untruth which slanders as impure
"And miss the way to heaven!" My closing word Is a reproachful echo in my ear;
Entrando en ti, cabeza con cabeza, pelo con pelo, boca contra boca:
The way I walk, an angel of God's throne, The dearest, brightest, oft with drooping wings,
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