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1858–1924

THE TEMPTATION.

Edith Nesbit

YOU bring your love too late, dear, I have no love to buy it, I spent my love on worthless toys, at fairs you do not know; I am a bankrupt trader — dear eyes, do not deny it, I could have bought your love, dear, but that was long ago.

My soul has left me widowed, my heart has made me orphan, Leave me — all good things, dear, have left me — leave me too! For here is ice no tears of yours, no smiles of yours can soften: Leave me, leave me, leave me, I have no love for you!

I have no flowers to give you, they grow not in my garden; I have no songs to sing you, my songs have all been sung; I have no hope of heaven, no faith in any pardon, I might have loved you once, dear, when I was good and young.

I will not steal, nor cheat you; take back the heart you lent me. O God, whom I have outraged, now teach me how to pray, That love come never again so near me to torment me, Lest I be found less faithful than, by Thy grace, to-day.

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THE TEMPTATION. · Edith Nesbit · Poetry Cove