LADY MONTREVOR (SEE MATURIN'S 'WILD IRISH BOY') by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI

I do not look for love that is a dream:
I only seek for courage to be still;
To bear my grief with an unbending will,
And when I am a-weary not to seem.
Let the round world roll on; let the sun beam;
Let the wind blow, and let the rivers fill
The everlasting sea; and on the hill
The palms almost touch heaven, as children deem.
And though young Spring and Summer pass away,
And Autumn and cold Winter come again;
And though my soul, being tired of its pain,
Pass from the ancient earth; and though my clay
Return to dust; my tongue shall not complain:
No man shall mock me after this my day.

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