I LOVED THEE
Martha Dickinson Bianchi translation
I loved thee; and perchance until this moment Within my breast is smouldering still the fire! Yet I would spare thy pain the least renewal, Nothing shall rouse again the old desire!
I loved thee with a silent desperation— Now timid, now with jealousy brought low, I loved devoutly,—with such deep devotion— Ah may God grant another love thee so!