Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead,

Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn

From year to year until I saw thy face,

Are weak to injure. Very whitely still

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

While my hands tremble ? Then my soul, instead

Let the worlds sharpness, like a clasping knife,

To love me also in silence with thy soul.

Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

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

Rather on earth, Beloved,—where the unfit

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

With darkness and the death-hour rread.99csw.comounding it.

Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer,

And would the sun for thee more coldly shine

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

Because of grave-damps falling round my head?

Of dreams of death, resumes lifes lower range.

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

Until the lengthening wings break into fire

The lilies of our lives may reassure

By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubts pain

A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne

I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange

The angels would pread.99csw.comress on us and aspire

Of all those natural joys as lightly worn

That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated

To drop some golden orb of perfect song

Which its own nature doth precipitate,

Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll,

And feel as safe as guarded by a charm

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

Shut in upon itself and do no harm

Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine?

A place to stand and love in for a day,

Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain

I lean upon thee, Dear, without alarm,

And isolate pure spirits, and permit

Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay

Betwixt the stars and the unaccomplished fate.

And let it drop adown thy calmly great

Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted

Were changed to long despairs, till Gods own grace

XXII

After the click of the shutting. Life to life—

And sorrow after sorrow took the place

XXIV

My heavy heart. Then thou didst bid me bring

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

By a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apace

XXI

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

As brighter ladies do not count it strange,

Be here contented? Think. In mounting higher,

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

Deep being! Fast it sinketh, as a thing

When our two souls stand up erect and strong,

While thine doth close above it, mediating

XXIII

For love, to give up acres and degree,

As the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turn

Contrarious moods of men recoil away

And let us hear no sound of human strife

Thy thought so in the letter.hｔtｐｓ://rｅaｄ•９９csｗ•ｃｏm I am thine—

At either curved point,—what bitter wrong

Their blossoms from their roots, accessible

Remember, never to the hill or plain,

Against the stab of worldlings, who if rife

The silver iterance!—only minding, Dear,

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

I marvelled, my Beloved, when I read

Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?

XXV

Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.

Say over again, and yet once over again,