Make thy love larger to enlarge my worth.

Went counting all my chains as if that so

Take it. My day of youth went yesterday;

How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?

Because thou art more noble and like a king,

That thou wast in the world a year ago,

A grave, on which to rest from singing? Choose.

No natural heat till mine grows cold in death.

Nor plant I it from rose or myrtle-tree,

Mankinds forlornest uses, thou canst pour

And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink

Here ends my strife. If thou invite me forth,

May prove as lordly andwww.99lib.net complete a thing

I tie the shadows safe from gliding back,

I barter curl for curl upon that mart,

And yet, because thou overcomest so,

Thy purple round me, till my heart shall grow

Thus, with a fillet of smooth-kissing breath,

The dim purpureal tresses gloomed athwart

As girls do, any more: it only may

XVIII

Still lingers on thy curl, it is so black!

Of lifes great cup of wonder ! Wonderful,

Even so, Beloved, I at last record,

And as a vanquished soldier yields his sword

Would take this first, but Love is juhｔtp://ｗwｗ.９９lｉb•netstified,—

The kiss my mother left here when she died.

Which now upon my fingers thoughtfully,

With personal act or speech,—nor ever cull

Who cannot guess Gods presence out of sight.

Thou canst prevail against my fears and fling

To a man, Dearest, except this to thee,

Here on my heart, as on thy brow, to lack

XIX

Never to feel thee thrill the day or night

From thence into their ears. Gods will devotes

XVII

As purply black, as erst to Pindars eyes

And strike up and stwww.99lib.netrike off the general roar

Thou sawest growing! Atheists are as dull,

I ring out to the full brown length and say

How it shook when alone. Why, conquering

I rise above abasement at the word.

Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white

I never gave a lock of hair away

The bay-crowns shade, Beloved, I surmise,

Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse?

The nine white Muse-brows. For this counterpart, . . .

A shade, in which to sing—of palm or pine?

Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.

God set between his After and Before,

In lifting upward, as in crushing low!

And lay the gift where nothing hindereth;

To one who lifts him from the bloody earth,

And from my poets forehead to my heart

Of medicated music, answering for

My hair no longer bounds to my foots glee,

What time I sat alone here in the snow

XVI

In a serene air purely. Antidotes

Taught drooping from the head that hangs aside

My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes

XX

Take it thou,—finding pure, from all those ye９9ｌｉｂ.ｎeｔars,

Beloved, my Beloved, when I think

Through sorrows trick. I thought the funeral-shears

Receive this lock which outweighs argosies,—

Struck by thy possible hand,—why, thus I drink

Now shade on two pale cheeks the mark of tears,

They never could fall off at any blow

Too close against thine heart henceforth to know

A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine

The souls Rialto hath its merchandise;

Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats

No moment at thy voice, but, link by link,