Law

In the extremity of love's deep dole
I cried for help unto my soul:
"Why may another hold from me the mate
Who should be mine by every sign of fate?"
"I am not," said my soul, "save as thou art.
Take heed.
Behind thyself thy weakness hides
When law and longing stand at odds apart.
Insistently the past that in thee bides
Cries out against the present
The bitter truth against the wrong that's pleasant;
The ancient law against the present greed.
The law is called thy conscience,
And thou call'st thy weakness, soul."