LVIII
Reading edition
AH Love! Couldst thou but greet me every even, And let thine eyes lose those soft rays in mine; Couldst thou but share with me this bread and wine, Or something of what God to me hath given, Then might I feel, that not in vain was driven This love-shaft in my soul; for it would shine With gratitude, and round thine own entwine The fairest flowers that e’er were grown in Heaven. Had I but thee to share my pain with me, Pain would be joy, and joy that pain dispelled. Were thy dear form beside me, night and day, Then could I grieve no longer, but would be So happy, happiness would be impelled To change my spirit in some magic way.