LADY CURRIE (VIOLET FANE)1843-1905
1843-1905
Oh, love! thou that shelterest some’Neath thy wings, so white and warm,Wherefore on a bat-like wingAll disguisèd didst thou comeIn so terrible a form?As a dark forbidden thing,As a demon of the air—As a sorrow and a sin,Wherefore cam’st thou thus to me,As a tempter and a snare?When the heart that beats withinThis, my bosom, warm’d to thee,Was it from a love of sinning,From a fatal love of wrong,From a wish to shun the light?Nay! I swear at the beginningHadst thou sung an angel’s song,—Had this wrong thing been the right,Thou hadst seem’d as worth the winning,And with will as firm and strongI had lov’d with all my might.
Oh, love! thou that shelterest some’Neath thy wings, so white and warm,Wherefore on a bat-like wingAll disguisèd didst thou comeIn so terrible a form?As a dark forbidden thing,As a demon of the air—As a sorrow and a sin,Wherefore cam’st thou thus to me,As a tempter and a snare?When the heart that beats withinThis, my bosom, warm’d to thee,Was it from a love of sinning,From a fatal love of wrong,From a wish to shun the light?Nay! I swear at the beginningHadst thou sung an angel’s song,—Had this wrong thing been the right,Thou hadst seem’d as worth the winning,And with will as firm and strongI had lov’d with all my might.
Oh, love! thou that shelterest some’Neath thy wings, so white and warm,Wherefore on a bat-like wingAll disguisèd didst thou comeIn so terrible a form?As a dark forbidden thing,As a demon of the air—As a sorrow and a sin,Wherefore cam’st thou thus to me,As a tempter and a snare?When the heart that beats withinThis, my bosom, warm’d to thee,Was it from a love of sinning,From a fatal love of wrong,From a wish to shun the light?Nay! I swear at the beginningHadst thou sung an angel’s song,—Had this wrong thing been the right,Thou hadst seem’d as worth the winning,And with will as firm and strongI had lov’d with all my might.
Oh, love! thou that shelterest some
’Neath thy wings, so white and warm,
Wherefore on a bat-like wing
All disguisèd didst thou come
In so terrible a form?
As a dark forbidden thing,
As a demon of the air—
As a sorrow and a sin,
Wherefore cam’st thou thus to me,
As a tempter and a snare?
When the heart that beats within
This, my bosom, warm’d to thee,
Was it from a love of sinning,
From a fatal love of wrong,
From a wish to shun the light?
Nay! I swear at the beginning
Hadst thou sung an angel’s song,—
Had this wrong thing been the right,
Thou hadst seem’d as worth the winning,
And with will as firm and strong
I had lov’d with all my might.