Each on his own strict line we move,
And some find death ere they find love;
So far apart their lives are thrown
From the twin soul which halves their own.
And sometimes, by harder fate,
The lovers meet, but meet too late.
- Thy heart is mine! - True, true! ah, true!
- Then, love, thy hand! - Ah no! adieu!
Friday, July 24, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: longing