From year to year until I saw thy face,

The angels would press on us and aspire

Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain

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

Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife

Until the lengthening wings break into fire

Say thou dost love me, love me, love me--toll

The silver iterance !--only minding, Dear,

By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubts pain

Shut in upon itself and do no harm

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

While my hands tremble ? Then my soul, instead

As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn

Remember, never to the hill or plain,

Be here contented ? Think. In mounting higher,

Is it indeed so ? If I lay here dead,

Contrarious moods of men recoil away

Of dreams of death, resumes lifes lower range.

Thy thought so in the letter. I am thine--

I marvelled, my Beloved, when I read

I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,

At either curved point,--what bitter wrong

Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll,

Let the wor九-九-藏-书-网lds sharpness, like a clasping knife,

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

As brighter ladies do not count it strange,

Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer,

Were changed to long despairs, till Gods own grace

And would the sun for thee more coldly shine

Of all those natural joys as lightly worn

Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn

I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange

A place to stand and love in for a day,

To drop some golden orb of perfect song

Which its own nature doth precipitate,

And sorrow after sorro九九藏书w took the place

Because of grave-damps falling round my head ?

Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate.

Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted

With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.

That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated

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

Their blossoms from their roots, accessible

Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.

And let it drop adown thy calmly great

Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year ?

By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace

While thine doth close above it, mediating

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

And let us hear no sound of human strife

After the click of the shutting. Life to life--

When our two souls stand up erect and strong,

For love, to give up acres and degree,

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

Are weak to injure. Very whitely still

Rather on earth, Beloved,--where the unfit

Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine ?

A heavy heart, Belo

九-九-藏-书-网

ved, have I borne

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

Deep being ! Fast it sinketh, as a thing

And feel as safe as guarded by a charm

Say over again, and yet once over again,

To love me also in silence with thy soul.

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

The lilies of our lives may reassure

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

Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay

And isolate pure spirits, and permit

My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring