62. Wherein, Though Not Invulnerable, He Refuses to Feel Further Torment of Love -
WHEREIN, THOUGH NOT INVULNERABLE, HE REFUSES TO FEEL FURTHER TORMENT OF LOVE
Till winter's silver frost my temples harrow,
Where shade by shade Time mixes gray with grayer,
Danger will dog me still, ah grim gainsayer,
So long as Love keeps finger upon arrow.
Let Love his tortures practice on a sparrow!
I do not dread that treacherous trick-player:
My heart will not fly open for the slayer
To plant his blood-red barbs deep in its marrow!
Mine eyes are stones through which tears cannot blunder,
Though well they know the way in, ah so well,
Mountains could not hold tears and eyes asunder!
Even now the flame turns my heart to a hell —
Yet burns not all! Her sinister shape and spell
May trouble, but not trample my sleep under!
Till winter's silver frost my temples harrow,
Where shade by shade Time mixes gray with grayer,
Danger will dog me still, ah grim gainsayer,
So long as Love keeps finger upon arrow.
Let Love his tortures practice on a sparrow!
I do not dread that treacherous trick-player:
My heart will not fly open for the slayer
To plant his blood-red barbs deep in its marrow!
Mine eyes are stones through which tears cannot blunder,
Though well they know the way in, ah so well,
Mountains could not hold tears and eyes asunder!
Even now the flame turns my heart to a hell —
Yet burns not all! Her sinister shape and spell
May trouble, but not trample my sleep under!
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