I SAID my pleasure shall not move;
It is not fixed in things apart:
Seeking not love—but yet to love—
I put my trust in mine own heart.
 

I knew the fountain of the deep
Wells up with living joy, unfed:
Such joys the lonely heart may keep,
And love grow rich with love unwed.
 

Still flows the ancient fount sublime;—
But, ah, for my heart, shed tears, shed tears;
Not it, but love, has scorn of time,
It turns to dust beneath the years.

Added: May 12 2003 | Viewed: 1393 times | Comments (0)

Poet: George William Russell
Poem: 135. 135. Our Thrones Decay
Volume: Collected Poems by A.E.
Year: Published/Written in 1913
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