We love, and O! we know it; yet Love's name
Upon our lips a tremulous wish must die;
We both were made for loving, you and I,
And still was Love denied. To both it came,
More fleeting than the beauty of a flame:
Now each within the other's hungering eye
Beholds the corse of Joy embalmed lie,
And smiles to know his penury the same.
There is no sorrow in this love, O Friend,
New-sprung from ruin, tho’ our lips be sealed
By silence and the world's hard fetter. Dear
To me your being; yet we know nor fear
Of loss nor of possession; here's a shield
Shall part us nobly faithful to the end.