Verse > Thomas Hardy > Wessex Poems and Other Verses
Thomas Hardy (1840–1928).  Wessex Poems and Other Verses.  1898.
16. She, to Him. IV
THIS love puts all humanity from me;
  I can but maledict her, pray her dead,
For giving love and getting love of thee—
  Feeding a heart that else mine own had fed!
How much I love I know not, life not known,        5
  Save as some unit I would add love by;
But this I know, my being is but thine own—
  Fused from its separateness by ecstasy.
And thus I grasp thy amplitudes, of her
  Ungrasped, though helped by nigh-regarding eyes;        10
Canst thou then hate me as an envier
  Who see unrecked what I so dearly prize?
Believe me, Lost One, Love is lovelier
  The more it shapes its moans in selfish-wise.



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