Torn

I would that I were still a love-shy child,

A dream within your gaze so gently mild,

That time would stop where I command it lie,

And sight of you would give me wings to fly:

In time that’s past we were once undefiled,

Two babes were born—our stars are turning wild—

Our paths entwined, a joy was born. Now die,

Poor happiness, and from that death not shy:

With you I go, I have no wish to see

That time now past when troubles summed to naught,

And mirth has fled from me—what do I be,

That love has trapped me, hypnotically,

I dally longer than I ever ought,

But hope is gone, as you are gone from me.

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