LUCY'S SONG

Estratto da " The poems and verses" 

Charles Dickens 

Love is not a feeling to pass away,

Like the balmy breath of a summer day; It is not—it cannot be—laid aside;

It is not a thing to forget or hide.

It clings to the heart, ah, woe is me!

As the ivy clings to the old oak tree.

Love is not a passion of earthly mould,

As a thirst for honour, or fame, or gold:

For when all these wishes have died away,

The deep strong love of a brighter day,

Though nourished in secret, consumes the more, As the slow rust eats to the iron’s core.