Poems (1898)/Let Me Believe

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For other versions of this work, see Let Me Believe.


Let me believe you, love, or let me die!
 If on your faith I may not rest secure,—
 Beyond all chance of peradventure sure,—
 Trusting your half-avowals sweet and shy,
As trusts the lark the pallid, dawn-lit sky,—
 Then would I rather in some grave obscure
 Repose forlorn, than, living on, endure
 A question each dear transport to belie!
It is a pain to thirst and do without,
 A pain to suffer what we deem unjust,
 To win a joy—and lay it in the dust;
But there's a fiercer pain,—the pain of doubt:
 From other griefs Death sets the spirit free;
 Doubt steals the light from immortality!