You will not lure me with your charms
Or win me back again
Because you held me in your arms
And I forgot my pain.
’Twas not for you my spirit yearned
That night of fierce desire;
The flame in which we met and burned
Drew from an alien fire.
I shall not win my lady’s grace,
Her eyes are still and cold;
I may not find a resting-place
Before my life grows old.
One thought alone rejoicing stirs
And shall, when all is done--
That in your arms my soul met hers
And we became as one.
_BASIL BLACKWELL_
(_MERTON_)