57552: Greater Love

<p dir="ltr"> Red lips are not so red<br> As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.<br> Kindness of wooed and wooer<br> Seems shame to their love pure.<br> O Love, your eyes lose lure<br> When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!<br> Your slender attitude<br> Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed,<br> Rolling and rolling there<br> Where God seems not to care;<br> Till the fierce love they bear<br> Cramps them in death's extreme decrepitude.<br> Your voice sings not so soft, --<br> Though even as wind murmuring through raftered loft, --<br> Your dear voice is not dear,<br> Gentle, and evening clear,<br> As theirs whom none now hear,<br> Now earth has stopped their piteous mouths that coughed.<br> Heart, you were never hot<br> Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot;<br> And though your hand be pale,<br> Paler are all which trail<br> Your cross through flame and hail:<br> Weep, you may weep, for you may touch them not.</p>