Not Mine

Thou art not mine, though to my spirit dearer
     Than all of earth besides: sole cynosure 
Shining through clouds that nearer gloom and nearer,
     With a most steady brightness, calm and pure; 
Piercing the darkness with serenest splendor,
     And o'er my being shedding light divine; 
For this the homage of my heart I render,
     While still that heart mourns on — Not mine — not mine!

Not mine — not mine! though never name hath parted 
     My lips so oft as that which thou dost bear! 
Thridding the lonely wood-paths, weary-hearted,
     I breathe its music to the listening air. 
'Tis the pure spirit of my aspirations,
     The one clear note whose sweetness seeing vine, 
Still sounding on with infinite vibrations,
     And through sad minors of — Not mine — not mine!

Not mine — not mine! though I have dared to love thee
     With the mad love whose passionate excess 
Confesses no ideal throned above thee,
     But sees in thee the crown of loveliness!
 Ah! wilder worship ne'er was paid the human,
     Now costlier offering laid on beauty's shrine, 
Than I have given thee, O peerless woman!
     Fairest and dearest, but — Not mine — not mine!

Not mine — not mine! though all I dream of beauty
     Dwells in the lustrous depth of thy dark eyes,
And my wild passion is sublimed to duty,
     That sees in thee all templed sanctities! 
Vainly, in words, my full heart seeks expression,
     And pants to mingle its best life with thine! 
Vainly it supplicates thy heart's possession,
     And, baffled, murmurs still — Not mine — not mine!

Not mine — not mine! O, words of bitter anguish!
     O, pulse of fire to throb through heart and brain! 
O, prophet-voice that tells me I must languish
     Still for thy love, and love thee still in vain! 
Another heart shall know the priceless blessing
     Which my sad heart forever must resign; 
Another lip shall taste thy lip's caressing.
     And still my moan sound on — Not mine — not mine!