LXXXVIII
WITH some, the law of love doth work at ease:
To some it doth seem oft to make amends.
To some the power of giving birth it sends;
To others the dull pain of a disease.
And yet how few this passion seems to please.
At first its force to extasy it lends,
Then deep into the depth of grief descends,
And on the beauty of the soul doth seize.
Yet, on the whole love is a mad possession,
Taking from men the peacefulness of life,
Bewild’ring warfare, with the heart’s obsession,
That turneth Heaven into ceaseless strife,
Now seeking love’s increase, now its repression,
Until the maid be merged into the wife.