Two Lovers
i.
I love my lover; on the heights above me
He mocks my poor attainment with a frown.
I, looking up as he is looking down,
By his displeasure guess he still doth love me;
For his ambitious love would ever prove me
More excellent than I as yet am shown:
So, straining for some good ungrasped, unknown,
I vainly would become his image of me.
And, reaching through the dreadful gulfs that sever
Our souls, I strive with darkness nights and days,
Till my perfected work tow'rds him I raise.
Who laughs thereat, and scorns me more than ever
Yet his upbraiding is beyond all praise.
This lover that I love I call: Endeavour.
ii.
I have another lover loving me,
Himself beloved of all men, fair and true,
He would not have me change although I grew
Perfect as Light, because more tenderly
He loves myself than loves what I might be.
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