Thursday, April 7, 2022

LUCY'S SONG by Charles Dickens

by Charles Dickens

Love is not a feeling to pass away,

Like the balmy breath of a summer day;

It is not--it cannot be--laid aside;

It is not a thing to forget or hide.

It clings to the heart, ah, woe is me!

As the ivy clings to the old oak tree.

Love is not a passion of earthly mould,

As a thirst for honour, or fame, or gold:

For when all these wishes have died away,

The deep strong love of a brighter day,

Though nourished in secret, consumes the more,

As the slow rust eats to the iron's core.

No comments:

Post a Comment