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one knows, and can meet, and torture and war, All the varied horrible things of life.

But a lover is so defenceless. He cannot return An open stab from the one beloved, or a secret thrust, He has laid down his arms, and can but accept the words that burn Into the depth of his soul. What can I do? Though you shatter trust And sin in every way that man can sin against Love. I cannot enter the strife, Cannot even implore, Upbraid, reprove, For I loved, and thrice cursed fool that I am! I love you still. All that I had of passion, of power, even of life, Was laid at your feet. It did not avail me aught.

Does it ever avail? All that was ever given or done or dared If the one beloved be unwilling, can only fail.

Yet I know the value of what I have given—of Love. The silver and gold of the Earth are no bribes for Him, Nor will He stoop to a lure. 116