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“Sorrow, sorrow, thou art one of those beautiful
proud women whose love is hard to win, but it
burns stronger than that of others. Thou despised,
I laid thee in my heart and loved thee! I kissed the
cold from thy limbs, and thy love hath filled me
with blessedness.
“Oh, how I suffered! Oh, how I longed for her
after I lost her whom I held most dear. Dark night
was within and without me. I lay low in prayer,
in heavy unanswered prayer. Heaven was closed to
my long waiting; from the star-besprinkled sky no
sweet spirit came to comfort me.
“But my longing rent the darkening veil asunder,
and thou camest down to me swaying on a
bridge of moonbeams, thou camest in light, oh,
my beloved! and with smiling lips. Happy ängels
surrounded thee. They carried garlands of roses,
and played on citherns and flutes. It was happiness
to see thee. But thou vanished—vanished again,
and there was no bridge of moonbeams for me when
I would follow thee! I lay on the earth wingless,
tied to the dust; my wailing was like the roar of
a wild beast, like the heavens’ deafening thunder.
I would have sent the lightning as a message to
thee. I cursed the green earth—fire might blast the
harvests and plagues kill the people. I called upon
death and hell. I thought that the pain of everlasting
fire was sweetness compared to my misery.
“Sorrow, sorrow, then wert thou my friend. Why
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