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The wounded Eros

Chapter 63: LX
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About This Book

A long sonnet sequence traces an intense, often unreciprocated passion through images of nature, classical myth, and spiritual longing. The poet alternates ardent addresses to an idealized beloved with self-questioning, lament, and philosophical reflection, examining love's joy, pain, hope, and resignation. Recurring motifs—seasonal landscapes, sea and sky, and wounded mythic figures—shape meditations on desire, memory, and the poet's identity. The sequence moves between ardor and melancholy, culminating in contemplative acceptance and an elegiac sense of love's enduring but altered presence.

AH Love! Couldst thou but greet me every even,
And let thine eyes lose those soft rays in mine;
Couldst thou but share with me this bread and wine,
Or something of what God to me hath given,
Then might I feel, that not in vain was driven
This love-shaft in my soul; for it would shine
With gratitude, and round thine own entwine
The fairest flowers that e’er were grown in Heaven.
Had I but thee to share my pain with me,
Pain would be joy, and joy that pain dispelled.
Were thy dear form beside me, night and day,
Then could I grieve no longer, but would be
So happy, happiness would be impelled
To change my spirit in some magic way.

LIX

LX

LXI

LXII

LXIII

LXIV

LXV

LXVI

LXVII

LXVIII

LXIX

LXX

LXXI

LXXII

LXXIII

LXXIV

LXXV

LXXVI

LXXVII

LXXVIII

LXXIX

LXXX

LXXXI

LXXXII

LXXXIII

LXXXIV

LXXXV

LXXXVI

LXXXVII

LXXXVIII

LXXXIX

XC

XCI

XCII

XCIII

XCIV

XCV

XCVI