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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353948" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Cannot Love Thee!</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I CANNOT love thee, tho' thy soul <br>Be one which all good thoughts control; <br>Altho' thy eyes be starry bright, <br>And the gleams of golden light <br>Fall upon thy silken hair, <br>And thy forehead, broad and fair; <br>Something of a cold disgust, <br>(Wonderful, and most unjust,) <br>Something of a sullen fear <br>Weighs my heart when thou art near; <br>And my soul, which cannot twine <br>Thought or sympathy with thine, <br>With a coward instinct tries <br>To hide from thy enamour'd eyes, <br>Wishing for a sudden blindness <br>To escape those looks of kindness; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sad she folds her shivering wings <br>From the love thy spirit brings, <br>Like a chainéd thing, caress'd <br>By the hand it knows the best, <br>By the hand which, day by day, <br>Visits its imprison'd stay, <br>Bringing gifts of fruit and blossom <br>From the green earth's plenteous bosom; <br>All but that for which it pines <br>In those narrow close confines, <br>With a sad and ceaseless sigh-- <br>Wild and wingéd Liberty! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can it be, no instinct dwells <br>In th' immortal soul, which tells <br>That thy love, oh! human brother, <br>Is unwelcome to another? <br>Can the changeful wavering eye, <br>Raised to thine in forced reply,-- <br>Can the cold constrainéd smile, <br>Shrinking from thee all the while,-- <br>Satisfy thy heart, or prove <br>Such a likeness of true love? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seems to me, that I should guess <br>By what a world of bitterness, <br>By what a gulf of hopeless care, <br>Our two hearts divided were: <br>Seems to me that I should know <br>All the dread that lurk'd below, <br>By want of answer found <br>In the voice's trembling sound; <br>By the unresponsive gaze; <br>By the smile which vainly plays, <br>In whose cold imperfect birth <br>Glows no fondness, lives no mirth; <br>By the sigh, whose different tone <br>Hath no echo of thine own; <br>By the hand's cold clasp, which still <br>Held as not of its free will, <br>Shrinks, as it for freedom yearn'd;-- <br>That my love was unreturn'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When thy tongue (ah! woe is me!) <br>Whispers love-vows tenderly, <br>Mine is shaping, all unheard, <br>Fragments of some withering word, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which, by its complete farewell, <br>Shall divide us like a spell! <br>And my heart beats loud and fast, <br>Wishing that confession past; <br>And the tide of anguish rises, <br>Till its strength my soul surprises, <br>And the reckless words, unspoken, <br>Nearly have the silence broken, <br>With a gush like some wild river,-- <br>'Oh! depart, depart for ever!' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But my faltering courage fails, <br>And my drooping spirit quails; <br>So sweet-earnest looks thy smile <br>Full of tenderness the while, <br>And with such strange pow'r are gifted <br>The eyes to which my own are lifted; <br>So my faint heart dies away, <br>And my lip can nothing say, <br>And I long to be alone,-- <br>For I weep when thou are gone! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, I weep, but then my soul <br>Free to ponder o'er the whole, <br>Free from fears which check'd its thought, <br>And the pain thy presence brought, <br>Whispers me the useless lie,-- <br>'For thy love he will not die, <br>Such pity is but vanity.' <br>And I bend my weary head <br>O'er the tablets open spread, <br>Whose fair pages me invite <br>All I dared not say to write; <br>And my fingers take the pen, <br>And my heart feels braced again <br>With a resolute intent;-- <br>But, ere yet that page be sent, <br>Once I view the written words <br>Which must break thy true heart's chords; <br>And a vision, piercing bright, <br>Rises on my coward sight, <br>Of thy fond hand, gladly taking <br>What must set thy bosom aching; <br>While too soon the brittle seal <br>Bids the page the worst reveal, <br>Blending in thy eager gaze-- <br>Scorn, and anguish, and amaze. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Powerless, then, my hand reposes <br>On the tablet which it closes, <br>With a cold and shivering sense <br>Born of Truth's omnipotence: <br>And my weeping blots the leaves, <br>And my sinking spirit grieves, <br>Humbled in that bitter hour <br>By the very consciousness of power! <br>What am I, that I should be <br>Such a source of woe to thee? <br>What am I, that I should dare <br>Thus to play with thy despair, <br>And persuade myself that thou <br>Wilt not bend beneath the blow? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rather should my conscience move <br>Me to think of this vain love, <br>Which my life of peace beguiles, <br>As a tax on foolish smiles, <br>Which--like light not meant for one <br>Who, wandering in the dark alone, <br>Hath yet been tempted by its ray <br>To turn aside and lose his way-- <br>Binds me, by their careless sin, <br>To take the misled wanderer in. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I praise thee, as I go, <br>Wandering, weary, full of woe, <br>To my own unwilling heart; <br>Cheating it to take thy part <br>By rehearsing each rare merit <br>Which thy nature doth inherit. <br>To myself their list I give, <br>Most prosaic, positive:-- <br>How thy heart is good and true, <br>And thy face most fair to view; <br>How the powers of thy mind <br>Flatterers in the wisest find, <br>And the talents God hath given <br>Seem as held in trust for Heaven; <br>Labouring on for noble ends,-- <br>Steady to thy boyhood's friends,-- <br>Slow to give, or take, offence,-- <br>Full of earnest eloquence,-- <br>Hopeful, eager, gay of cheer,-- <br>Frank in all thy dealings here,-- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ready to redress the wrong <br>Of the weak against the strong,-- <br>Keeping up an honest pride <br>With those the world hath deified, <br>But gently bending heart and brow <br>To the helpless and the low;-- <br>How, in brief, there dwells in thee <br>All tht's generous and free, <br>All that may most aptly move <br>My Spirit to an answering love. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But in vain the tale is told; <br>Still my heart lies dead and cold, <br>Still it wanders and rebels <br>From the thought that thus compels, <br>And refuses to rejoice <br>Save in unconstrain&emacr;d choice. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Therefore, when thine eyes shall read <br>This, my book, oh take thou heed! <br>In the dim lines written here, <br>All shall be explained and clear; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">All my lips could never speak <br>When my heart grew coward-weak,-- <br>All my hand could never write, <br>Tho' I planned it day and night,-- <br>All shall be at length confest, <br>And thou'lt forgive,--and let me rest! <br>None but thou and I shall know <br>Whose the doom, and whose the woe; <br>None but thou and I shall share <br>In the secret printed there; <br>It shall be a secret still, <br>Tho' all look on it at will; <br>And the eye shall read in vain <br>What the heart cannot explain. <br>Each one, baffled in his turn, <br>Shall no more its aim discern, <br>Than a wanderer who might look <br>On some wizard's magic book, <br>Of the darkly-worded spell <br>Where deep-hidden meanings dwell. <br>Memory, fancy, they shall task <br>This sad riddle to unmask,-- <br>Or, with bold conjectural fame, <br>Fit the pages with a name;-- </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But nothing shall they understand, <br>And vainly shall the stanger's hand <br>Essay to fling the leaves apart, <br>Which bear MY message to THY heart!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Caroline+Elizabeth+Sarah+Norton">Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353948" data-title="I Cannot Love Thee! de Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton" data-description="I CANNOT love thee, tho' thy soul 
Be one which all good thoughts control; 
Altho' thy eyes be starry bright, 
And the gleams of golden light 
Fall upon thy silken hair, 
And thy forehead, broad and fair; 
Something of a cold disgust, 
(Wonderful,..."></div>
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