Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle. <br /> <br />THIS treasure of love, these passion-flowers, <br />Dear as desire, are dearly bought: <br />The sweet unrest of seeing you <br />For some too-happy hour or two, <br />Is paid by such a wealth of tears, <br />Such grief, such bitterness, such fears, <br />Such wild remorse, such weak regret, <br />Such tide of longing towards you set, <br />As poison all my other hours, <br />And murder every other thought. <br /> <br /> <br />I cannot drink joy steeped in fears, <br />I choose the cold unhurtful days; <br />The roses you hold out to me <br />Are red and sweet enough to be <br />A crown one would so gladly wear <br />If but one's brows were strong to bear <br />The weight, and did not ache and ache <br />For the fair coronation's sake, <br />And dread of coming crownless years <br />When tired feet shall tread thorny ways. <br /> <br /> <br />There is a peace in sombre skies <br />Where no sun even tries to shine, <br />But not in these where transient glow, <br />And passionate bursts of sunshine show <br />Only life's dull fields drenched with rain, <br />And then the clouds set fast again <br />Into a leaden sky like this is, <br />Lit by no lightnings of warm kisses, <br />Whence, while I look into your eyes, <br />A thunderbolt may fall on mine. <br /> <br /> <br />I give you back the rose I stole, <br />Pluck but pale leaves that near me grow. <br />I cannot love with half a heart, <br />'Tis all or nothing for my part; <br />And since the all may not be ours, <br />Since we may only pluck Love's flowers, <br />But may not in his temple stay, <br />I choose the grey and lonely way-- <br />And you--be thankful from your soul <br />That, loving you, I let you go.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-s-suicide-2/
