Poems (Bibesco)/V

by Elizabeth Bibesco

V

If you don't love my love, my dear,
     It is not there.
What you don't love can never be
A thought of mine, a part of me.
     And so, beware!
For every smile and every tear
Is born of hope and bred of fear;
     Only despair
Is mine alone. And being mine
Can blot your image, lock your shrine.

In the still dust beneath your feet
I lie alone and incomplete,
     But you,
Though you may pass me in disdain,
Will know the all-fulfilling pain,
     And rue
The burning love that, liking not,
You fanned to flame and left to rot.

For it is not my love, my dear,
     Has died,
But you; the glow-worms in your eyes,
The singing echoes of your sighs
     That lied.

Where is the brightness of the glance
That taught my secret thoughts to dance?
     Tell me
Where is the music in your voice
That made the nightingale rejoice?
     I see
No more sweet hopes, no more sweet fears,
You've lost your smiles, you've lost my tears.
     Yet how
Deep in your soul by day and night
My constant love gave warmth and light,
With many a bitter blast it fought
Blood of your heart, bone of your thought!
     And now
My love you have extinguishèd
And you, my dear, not I, are dead.