Our jealous pride has robbed us all of love. Sooner or later, when that surging emotion Has dulled our minds and taken full possession So that one moment of its rapture is above The price paid by the world for that white dove Of quiet peace, then pride without permission Into our thoughts intrudes, demands attention And blinds our eyes to undemanding love. It tricks us recklessly; ah, me, If love could live one twelvemonth without pride Insisting on our cognizance of it Then love should in its boundless splendor be Free to soar full high and wide And lift our souls into the infinite. |