Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 185

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CLXXXV THE SECOND TIME
I cannot love you well, love, I cannot love again.Your heaven is my hell, love, Your rapture is my pain.
I cannot say once more, love, The words that have been said.My hand is on the door, love, My heart is with the dead.
When you would bid me stay, love, A voice is in mine ear,That cries, "Away, away, love! How shouldst thou linger here?"
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You warmed me at your fire, love, But I myself am cold.God grant you your desire, love, And new love for the old.

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