XII
Reading edition
IT is a strange and wondrous thing that brings Love unrequited to the human heart. To me it comes; from thee it would depart. And all the while a stirring song it sings, Bearing an undescribed refrain that clings, In unremitting strength, like that sweet dart Whose love-tipped messenger of life thou art. It bears to me a memory that stings. Must I then languish in remembrance of Those treasured moments of unearthly joy, That bore me to the realm of magic halls, Where are reflected images of love? I trow, thou hast no heart to thus destroy My own heart’s happiness that from thee falls!