P. H. T.
[P. H. T.]
I may come near loving you When you are dead And there is nothing to do And much to be said.
To repent that day will be Impossible For you and vain for me The truth to tell.
I shall be sorry for Your impotence: You can do and undo no more When you go hence,
Cannot even forgive The funeral. But not so long as you live Can I love you at all.
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|Author||Thomas, Edward (1878-1917)|
|Title||P. H. T.|
|Copyright||Copyright Edward Thomas, 1979, reproduced under licence from Faber and Faber Ltd.|
|First line||I may come near loving you|
|Publication source||Edward Thomas Collected Poems|
|Publication editor||Thomas, George|
|Publishers||Faber and Faber|
|Digital repository||The First World War Poetry Digital Archive|