The Tale

 

Love, every time you come to me

And say you have come to stay,

I put on my brief ecstasy,

And then I run away.

 

You ask too much, my heart's afraid

To give up all, — it flies,

Resumes its old safe masquerade,

And hugs its old sweet lies.

 

In patient trust You wait and call,

And wait for many a day;

But when I don't return at all,

You quietly go away.

 

And all my heart's a stone of pain,

I curse me that I fail:

But when, O Love, you come again,

I still repeat the tale.

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