She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer, Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won
She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer, Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won
O Lady, once I gave love: now I take!
Love that so desires would fain keep her changeless Fain would fling the net, and fain have her free.
The love is here; it has but changed its aim.
So, therefore, my dear Lady, let me love!
Of love, the grand impulsion, we behold
The love that lends her grace
Among the starry fold.
The most dire disaster in love is the death of imagination.
The season of love is the carnival of egoism and it brings a touchstone to our natures.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories