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Amy Levy - A Prayer
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Since that I may not have
Love on this side the grave,
    Let me imagine Love.
Since not mine is the bliss
Of `claspt hands and lips that kiss,`
    Let me in dreams it prove.
What tho` as the years roll
No soul shall melt to my soul,
    Let me conceive such thing;
Tho` never shall entwine
Loving arms around mine
    Let dreams caresses bring.
To live—it is my doom—
Lonely as in a tomb,
    This cross on me was laid;
My God, I know not why;
Here in the dark I lie,
    Lonely, yet not afraid.
It has seemed good to Thee
Still to withhold the key
    Which opes the way to men;
I am shut in alone,
I make not any moan,
    Thy ways are past my ken.
Yet grant me this, to find
The sweetness in my mind
    Which I must still forego;
Great God which art above,
Grant me to image Love,—
    The bliss without the woe.
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