Shut in upon itself and do no harm

Cry, Speak once more—thou lovest! Who can fear

While my hands tremble ? Then my soul, instead

And sorrow after sorrow took the place

I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,

The lilies of our lives may reassure

And would the sun for thee more coldly shine

But . . . so much to thee? Can I pour thy wine

The angels would press on us and aspire

And isolate pure spirits, and permit

Can the earth do to us, that we should not long

Say thou dost love me, love me, love me—toll

Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife

Woulds

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t thou miss any life in losing mine?

Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay

My near sweet view of Heaven, for earth with thee!

My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring

God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.

Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead,

I marvelled, my Beloved, when I read

Growing straight, out of mans reach, on the hill.

In this close hand of Love, now soft and warm,

Too many stars,

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though each in heaven shall roll,

I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange

Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate.

While thine doth close above it, mediating

That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated

Remember, never to the hill or plain,

Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain

Thy thought so in the letter. I am thine—

Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted

Rather on earth, Beloved,—where the unfit

Are weak to injure. Very whitely still

A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne

Deep being! Fast it sinketh, as a thing

Of dreams of death, resumes lifes lower range.

Of all 九九藏书网those natural joys as lightly worn

XXIII

Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

Their blossoms from their roots, accessible

From year to year until I saw thy face,

Which its own nature doth precipitate,

When our two souls stand up erect and strong,

Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn

And let it drop adown thy calmly great

Let the worlds sharpness, like a clasping knife,

As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn

Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.

At either curved point,—what bitter wrwww.99lib.netong

Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer,

Should seem a cuckoo-song, as thou dost treat it,

XXIV

Be here contented? Think. In mounting higher,

By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubts pain

And let us hear no sound of human strife

To drop some golden orb of perfect song

For love, to give up acres and degree,

By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace

Contrarious moods of men recoil away

XXV

Because of grave-damps falling round my head?

And ９９ｌiｂ•ｎeｔfeel as safe as guarded by a charm

Say over again, and yet once over again,

To love me also in silence with thy soul.

After the click of the shutting. Life to life—

With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.

Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?

A place to stand and love in for a day,

Were changed to long despairs, till Gods own grace

Until the lengthening wings break into fire

XXI

The silver iterance!—only minding, Dear,

XXII

As brighter ladies do not count it strange,

Then, love me, Love! look on me—breathe on me!