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[First published 1852. Reprinted 1855.]
I MUST 1 not say that thou wert true, | |
| Yet let me say that thou wert fair. | |
| And they that lovely face who view, | |
| They will not ask if truth be there. | |
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| Truth—what is truth? Two bleeding hearts | 5 |
| Wounded by men, by Fortune tried, | |
| Outwearied with their lonely parts, | |
| Vow to beat henceforth side by side. | |
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| The world to them was stern and drear; | |
| Their lot was but to weep and moan. | 10 |
| Ah, let them keep their faith sincere, | |
| For neither could subsist alone! | |
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| But souls whom some benignant breath | |
| Has charm’d at birth from gloom and care, | |
| These ask no love—these plight no faith, | 15 |
| For they are happy as they are. | |
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| The world to them may homage make, | |
| And garlands for their forehead weave. | |
| And what the world can give, they take: | |
| But they bring more than they receive. | 20 |
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| They smile upon the world: their ears | |
| To one demand alone are coy. | |
| They will not give us love and tears— | |
| They bring us light, and warmth, and joy. | |
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| It was not love that heav’d thy breast, | 25 |
| Fair child! it was the bliss within. | |
| Adieu! and say that one, at least, | |
| Was just to what he did not win. | |
