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Go not, beloved and cruel; I have not strength
To say farewell to thee, thou canst not go!
Behold the fountain of my tears at length
Consumed away, and I have sorrowed so
that in the dry wells of these barren eyes
No more, no more thy treasured image lies.


Alas, what love is this that burns like fire?
Look thou, my body is a useless thing,
So worn it is, so wasted with desire,
I am grown lean with love; the new days bring
Only new pains that sap the blood of me,
Because of thee, beloved, because of thee!


And I, whose sport was ever with the spear
To the glad music of the battle-cry,
Who scorned to wear the panoply of Fear,
The trappings of the prudent--even I,
A conqueror always--I am vanquished now.
Mercy I cry! Yet merciless art thou.