Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

(1840 - 1922 / England)

Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: Lviii - Poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

It might not be. Some things are possible,
And some impossible for even God.
And Esther had no soul which Heaven or Hell
Could touch by joy or soften by the rod.
She could not really love me. The day came,
How soon, how late, I need not to devise,
When passion prayed its last, and only shame
Stood for my portion in a world grown wise,
And I went forth for ever from her sight
Knowing the good and evil. On that day
I did her wrong by anger. Now life's light
Illumines all, and I behold her gay
As I first knew her in my love purblind,
Dear passionate Esther, soulless but how kind!

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 13, 2010

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