The Love That Would Not Keep Poem by Samuel Alfred Beadle

We've reached diverging paths, dear heart,
'Tis pity, but 'tis true, we part;
It may be thine, it may be mine;
But truly the fault seems thine.
But place it, dear, just where you will,
The fault, let it be mine.


However deep the wound, dear heart,
Or slight, eternally we part,
No matter now who is to blame,
No matter who must weep,
The cruel fate that severed us;
The love that would not keep.


I long for rest, the quiet rest
Of home, and peace, and happiness,
That wedded hearts presage, 'tis mine
To know the emptiness of thine,
The jealousy of fickle heart
To which thy fears incline.


No longer now I would conceal,
The blight, the pain, the curse I feel;
The misery you know, and yet,
Dear heart, I would forget,
The cruelties of nuptial ties,
The fatal day we met.