THE SAME CONTINUED <br />I do not love you. To have said this once <br />Had seemed to both of us a monstrous lie, <br />An idle boast, love's last extravagance <br />Or the mere paradox of vanity. <br />Now it is true and yet more hideously <br />More strangely monstrous. I, no less than you, <br />Here own at length the worm which cannot die, <br />The burden of a pain for ever new. <br />This is the ``pang of loss,'' the bitterest <br />Which Hell can give. We are shut out from Heaven <br />And never more shall look upon Love's face, <br />Being with those who perish unforgiven. <br />Never to see Love's face! Ah, pain in pain, <br />Which we do well to weep and weep again!<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-love-sonnets-of-proteus-part-ii-to-juliet-xliii/
