Chapter 13
He wonders whether to praise or to blame her. By Rupert Brooke Read for LibriVox by Peter Yersley I have peace to weigh your worth, Now all is over.
But if to praise or blame you, Cannot say, for who decries the loved Decries the lover, yet what man Lords the thing he's thrown away? Be you in truth this dull, slight,
Cloudy naught, the more fool I, So great a fool to adore. But if you're that high goddess Once I thought, the more your godhead is, I lose the more.
Dear fool, pity the fool Who thought you clever. Dear wisdom, do not mock the fool That missed you. Most fair, the blind has lost
Your face for ever. How could I see you while I kissed you? So the poor love of fools and blind I've proved you, for foul or lovely Twas a fool that loved you.
