Chapter LVIII

But was it clear?—
So sure was it, that I could pluck this fruit?
If sure, so sure the Eden open’d not
To tempt, as well as bless me?—Could it be
That love could yet be mine?—The hope seem’d sweet;
Yet strange!—Why strange?—The change?—
Seem’d all change so?—
Yet marriage?—Why did mortals marry then?—
For love, they said, for love. And what was love?
What more than liking well?—Whom liked I so;
And all in all, and always?—Edith?—What?—
And liked her calling?—If I liked not that,
I liked not her, not wholly. If not her,
Then liked I no one wholly; and my will
In love, as in all other earthly states,
A choice must make,—take one of different boons,
And all imperfect. Why should not my love
Serve thus my judgment? Grace could stand this test,
And life with one like her so sweet could be!