<h2> Greater Love </h2>
<p>Red lips are not so red<br/>
As the stained stones kissed by the English dead.<br/>
Kindness of wooed and wooer<br/>
Seems shame to their love pure.<br/>
O Love, your eyes lose lure<br/>
When I behold eyes blinded in my stead!<br/>
<br/>
Your slender attitude<br/>
Trembles not exquisite like limbs knife-skewed,<br/>
Rolling and rolling there<br/>
Where God seems not to care;<br/>
Till the fierce Love they bear<br/>
Cramps them in death's extreme decrepitude.<br/>
<br/>
Your voice sings not so soft,—<br/>
Though even as wind murmuring through raftered loft,—<br/>
Your dear voice is not dear,<br/>
Gentle, and evening clear,<br/>
As theirs whom none now hear<br/>
Now earth has stopped their piteous mouths that coughed.<br/>
<br/>
Heart, you were never hot,<br/>
Nor large, nor full like hearts made great with shot;<br/>
And though your hand be pale,<br/>
Paler are all which trail<br/>
Your cross through flame and hail:<br/>
Weep, you may weep, for you may touch them not.<br/></p>
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