For Distance hath but subtle fondness grow,
And heart’s content may measure varied thus,
I have a love to thought of fondness know,
Yet Distance now has earned my varied trust.
Though, Life is also culprit to the blame,
And Circumstance; accomplice I appall.
And Time, the fiend, is guilty all the same,
And Work, the name to which I give them all.
But, cruel Distance knows not its greatest fail,
That is by which such distance overcome,
For soon I’ll know this Distance at my tail,
And face the fondest love my heart succumbs.
The length to which my longing seizes naught,
For endless is that love at longing thought.