The Affliction of Richard By Robert Bridges

      Love not too much. But how,
When thou hast made me such,
And dost thy gifts bestow,
How can I love too much?
      Though I must fear to lose,
And drown my joy in care,
With all its thorns I choose
The path of love and prayer.

      Though thou, I know not why,
Didst kill my childish trust,
That breach with toil did I
Repair, because I must:
      And spite of frighting schemes,
With which the fiends of Hell
Blaspheme thee in my dreams,
So far I have hoped well.

      But what the heavenly key,
What marvel in me wrought
Shall quite exculpate thee,
I have no shadow of thought.
      What am I that complain?
The love, from which began
My question sad and vain,
Justifies thee to man.

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