140
FERISHTAH'S FANCIES.
EPILOGUE.
Oh, Love—no, Love! All the noise below, Love,
Groanings all and moanings—none of Life I lose!
All of Life's a cry just of weariness and woe. Love—
"Hear at least, thou happy one!" How can I, Love, but choose?
Groanings all and moanings—none of Life I lose!
All of Life's a cry just of weariness and woe. Love—
"Hear at least, thou happy one!" How can I, Love, but choose?
Only, when I do hear, sudden circle round me
—Much as when the moon's might frees a space from cloud—
—Much as when the moon's might frees a space from cloud—
