Wages

I’d have you love me, yet your love should be A virtue less in you than me; I would not have folk say, “With what a meek Most patient strength she bears with all his weak And childish sins, his follies mean and wild! She loves him as we love a wayward child, Loves him for very pity, even, methinks, As God loves us.” Ah, stoop not to me thus! For love so given poisons him that drinks.

If, when you look into my life, you see No worth that you can love in me; If, being very human, I am prone To ways that are less heavenly than your own; If I have fall’n from your ideal height --Then do not love me in my own despite, Make me no halting beggar at Love’s gate Loved, as such are, For God’s sake; rather far Think I at least am worthy of your hate.

Love me, dear heart, if thus it may befall, For my own sake--or not at all. Love me for what I am; or, if not so, For what I am hate me and let me go; Dole me no humbling charity, nor turn Unjustly from me--pay but what I earn, That unashamed and man-like I may live And know, elate, That be it love or hate, At least you think me worthy what you give.