XV - Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear / Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne
From year to year until I saw thy face,
And sorrow after sorrow took the place
Of all those natural joys as lightly worn
As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn
By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace
Were changed to long despairs, till God's own grace
Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn
My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring
And let it drop adown thy calmly great
Deep being! Fast it sinketh, as a thing
Which its own nature does precipitate,
While thine doth close above it, mediating
Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate.
Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear / Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
If thou must love me, let it be for nought / Except for love's sake only. Do not say
WITH stammering lips and insufficient sound / I strive and struggle to deliver right
Say over again, and yet once over again, / That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated