Hate is only Love that has missed its way.
Had
it been when I came to the valley where the paths parted asunder,
Chance
had led my feet to the way of love, not hate,
I
might have cherished you well, have been to you fond and faithful,
Great
as my hatred is, so might my love have been great.
Each
cold word of mine might have been a kiss impassioned,
Warm
with the throb of my heart, thrilled with my pulse's leap,
And
every glance of scorn, lashing, pursuing, and stinging,
As
a look of tenderness would have been wondrous and deep.
Bitter
our hatred is, old and strong and unchanging,
Twined
with the fibres of life, blent with body and soul,
But
as its bitterness, so might have been our love's sweetness
Had
it not missed the way strange missing and sad to its goal.
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