Lota - Part II

A poem on Unrequited Love, by Augusta Webster

Page 31

"He thought a moment then he spoke, 'It seems
I shall do well to tell you more of her.
She is a noble creature, one I'd choose
As friend for you, if it might be: I look
To have you know her. If she loved me once,
Or loves me, 'tis with such a lofty love
As she may take to heaven with her. Yes
It shames me, for I am not worthy it:
It does not shame her.'

"'Yet,' I said, 'you hid
That noble friendship from me.'

"He looked down.
'Hear my confession, love. I have done ill,
But not to you. I have a foolish fault,
I am greedy of all love, of any love
That comes to me, I take it as one takes
A flower from any hand for its own sweet
And not as caring for the hand that gives,
I take it womanlike. And, as for her,
I honour her and could not but be proud
To have her see me with a different smile
From that she turns upon so many pleased
With her least notice. So, forgive me, love,
I found it hard to tell her of a smile
That made me happier. But we'll go to her
You and I, dearest, and, she has a heart
So great and tender, she will love you more
Than if her brother brought you and required
A sister's love for you.'


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