I love thee . . . mark! . . . I love thee—in thy sight

The colors from my life, and left so dead

Ungrateful, that for these most manifold

And sees within my eyes the tears of two.

Can it be right to give what I can give?

Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul

Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole

(The singing angels know) are only dear

And what I dream include thee, as the wine

And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright,

And what I feel, across the inferior features

Nor breathe my poison on thy Venice-glass,

And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.

Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light

VI

With pulses that beat double. What I do

In love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures

That givers of such gifts as mine are, must

And princely giver, who hast brought the gold

VIII

Who love God, God accepts while loving so.

Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole

Serenely in the sunshine as before,

Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed

Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue

I stand transfigured, glorified aright,

Alone upon the threshold of my door

And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done

What can I give thee back, O liberal

Nor give thee any love—which were unjust.

With conscience of the new rays that proceed

Through those infrequent smiles which fail to live

And purple of thine heart, unstained, untold,

Thy touch upon the palm. The widestｈｔｔp://ｗｗｗ.９９ｌib•ｎｅｔ land

Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show

As salt as mine, and hear the sighing years

Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,

Be counted with the ungenerous. Out, alas!

For all thy adjurations? O my fears,

Without the sense of that which I forbore—

To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears

Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore

I will not soil thy purple with my dust,

Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink

High gifts, I render nothing back at all?

Of individual life, I shall command

VII

And love is fire. And when I say at need

So九_九_藏_书_网 to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,

To give the same as pillow to thy head.

In unexpected largesse? am I cold,

Re-sighing on my lips renunciative

Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine

The names of country, heaven, are changed away

For where thou art or shalt be, there or here;

God for myself, He hears that name of thine,

Out of my face toward thine. Theres nothing low

Not so; not cold,—but very poor instead.

That this can scarce be right! We are not pe九-九-藏-书-网ers,

X

Was caught up into love, and taught the whole

Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed:

Because thy name moves right in what they say.

Go farther! let it serve to trample on.

God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink,

How that great work of Love enhances Natures.

Beloved, I only love thee! let it pass.

Ask God who knows. For frequent tears have run

And laid them on the outside of the-wall

The face of all the world is changed, I think,

For such as I to take or leave withal,

The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand

IX

And this . . . this lute and song . . . loved yesterday,