Quieta Ne Movete Poem by Edith Nesbit

DEAR, if I told you, made your sorrow certain,
Showed you the ghosts that o'er my pillow lean,
What joy were mine--to cast aside the curtain
And clasp you close with no base lies between!


You have given all, and still would find to give me
More love, more tenderness than ever yet:
You would forgive me--ah, you would forgive me,
But all your life you never would forget.


And I, thank God, can still in your embraces
Forget the past, with all its strife and stain,
--But if you, too, beheld the evil faces,
I should forget them never, never again!