XLVII
Reading edition
CANST thou not feel the tragedy of love, That followeth the train of thy delay To give what thou hast owed, full many a day, Unto my patient soul; that surely strove Last year thy loving sentiment to move Toward something higher than mere passion’s sway? How canst thou then, in truth, to thine heart say Thou hast fulfilled the duty of true love? I fear me that, like many, thou dost find A cruel joy in breaking this poor heart, Whose only crime is that it loves too well. Dost feel no obligation to be kind To those who honor thee, nor to depart From evils that no mortal can foretell?