ONE word is too often profaned <br /> For me to profane it; <br />One feeling too falsely disdain'd <br /> For thee to disdain it; <br />One hope is too like despair <br /> For prudence to smother; <br />And pity from thee more dear <br /> Than that from another. <br /> <br />I can give not what men call love: <br /> But wilt thou accept not <br />The worship the heart lifts above <br /> And the heavens reject not, <br />The desire of the moth for the star, <br /> Of the night for the morrow, <br />The devotion to something afar <br /> From the sphere of our sorrow?<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-5/
