Louise Chandler Moulton (Луиза Чандлер Молтон)
A Woman’s Knowledge
A rose to smell a moment, then to leave, Chance strain of song you smile at as you pass, Bubble that breaks before you lip the glass, Chain frail as the frail thread that spiders weave; Oh, do not think that I myself deceive! Thus, and not otherwise, to you am I,-- A moment's pleasure as you pass me by, Powerless, at best, to make you joy or grieve. And you, to me, my sun-god and my sun, Who warmed my heart to life with careless ray! Forever will that burning memory stay And warm me in the grave when life is done:-- What farther grace has any woman won? Since your chance gift you cannot take away.
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