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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXXI
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TO ONE WHOM HE HAD LOVED TOO LONG
 Why do I cling to thee, sad love? Too long
 Thou bringest me neither pleasure to my soul
 Nor profit to my reason save in song,
 My daily utterance. See, thy beggar`s dole
 Of foolish tears cannot my tears cajole;
 Thy laughter doth my laughter grievous wrong;
 Thy anger angereth me; thou heapest coal
 Of fire upon my head the drear night long
 With thy forgiveness. What is this thou wilt?
 Mine ears have ceased to hear, my tongue to speak,
 And naught is left for my spent heart to do.
 Love long has left the feast; the cup is spilt.
 Let us go too. The dawn begins to break,
 And there is mockery in this heaven of blue.
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