Sonnets and Songs — The Forgiveness

_The Forgiveness_ If I might see you dead, Beloved--dead-- Your false eyes closed forever to the light, Your false smile stilled upon my aching sight;

If I might know that nevermore your head, Cruelly fair, could lie upon the bed Of my torn heart; if I beheld the night Free from your living thought--ah!

if I might, Then could my desolate soul be comforted.

For this is worst of all the woes you gave-- My heart may not forgive.

The tired years go And leave the great love weeping for a grave, Scorned and unburied, 'neath the open sky.

I could not love you less, to see you so.

Loving you more, I might forgive--and die.

XII