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My bright Sun is spent; the dark shadows of
my heartless enemy enter my heart daily; let chance feed herself on my pain; she will not turn me from my beloved. Let chance push that swirling wheel round and round; my eye is on that humble mark; she wastes her time, strength if she thinks to draw me to those prizes, though I've no star to be my friend or oppose her in this trial. Only the thought of him shelters me: it is my cure, the shield I go to war with. When his light vanished, life's deadly blows were too much; all I have is what I feel he sends me from his place in a kinder world. |
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Notes: From B A2:26:68. In MS's RA, V1. Ve2. Key |