I said I splendidly loved you; it's not true. <br /> Such long swift tides stir not a land-locked sea. <br />On gods or fools the high risk falls -- on you -- <br /> The clean clear bitter-sweet that's not for me. <br />Love soars from earth to ecstasies unwist. <br /> Love is flung Lucifer-like from Heaven to Hell. <br />But -- there are wanderers in the middle mist, <br /> Who cry for shadows, clutch, and cannot tell <br />Whether they love at all, or, loving, whom: <br /> An old song's lady, a fool in fancy dress, <br />Or phantoms, or their own face on the gloom; <br /> For love of Love, or from heart's loneliness. <br />Pleasure's not theirs, nor pain. They doubt, and sigh, <br /> And do not love at all. Of these am I.<br /><br />Rupert Brooke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-i-said-i-splendidly-loved-you-it-s-not-tr-2/
