The Proxy

Ah, I saw her fondly pet a little child,
And that beguiled the pain I had.
Round its neck she put her arms and pressed it tight,
And at the sight my heart was glad.
Its face between her two white hands she drew,
Pressed it to her mouth and cheeks, so clear and soft,
Alack, and oft she kissed it too!

Straight it did as I'd have done in such a case,
And did embrace her once again.
Well it seemed to understand its wondrous bliss,
Its joy in this appeared so plain.
I thought, while envy in my heart alit:
"Oh, now would that I that little child might be!
So sweetly she caresses it"

When I saw the child run from her, quick as thought
I rose and caught it, as it came.
Sweet it seemed since she had clasped it in my sight,
And with delight I did the same.
I pressed it even as she before had pressed,
Yes, and kissed it where her mouth had kissed it too.
How that went through my heart and breast!

People say, my passion for her must be less
Than I profess; "for if love's yoke
Truly hurt me so, I should be sick and pale,
Who now am hale;" so say some folk.
Sore is my grief, though it meet not their eye;
All my courage is sustained by hope alone.
And were that gone, I, too, should die!