Carlotta Perry (1839–1914)

I THOUGHT it meant all glad ecstatic things,

Fond glance and touch and speech, quick blood and brain,

And strong desire, and keen, delicious pain,

And beauty’s thrall, and strange bewilderings

’Twixt hope and fear, like to the little stings

The rose-thorn gives, and then the utter gain—

Worth all my sorest striving to attain—

Of the dear bliss long-sought possession gives.

Now with a sad, clear sight that reassures

My often sinking soul, with longing eyes

Averted from the path that still allures,

Lest, seeing that for which my sore heart sighs,

I seek my own good at the cost of yours,—

I know at last that love means sacrifice.