I never knew mistrust and doubt Could be the intimates of love, Snuffing joy's candle out And sorrow like an injured dove
Cry so softly in its pain, But now I see that love is blind, At least love on the human plane Distorted by desire-mind
And failing to widen out, embrace Anger and disillusionment Filling the hurt and empty place Solaced by the soul's consent
As a quivering note on a single fret Where all life's contraries are met.
Poems Undated (1727)
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