Alone upon the threshold of my door

Of chief musician. What hast thou to do

But love me for loves sake, that evermore

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

Our ministering two angels look surprise

A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing through

A place to stand and love in for a day,

Can the earth do us, that we should not long

With pulses that beat double. What I do

Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art

Except frｅaｄ.９９csｗ.coｍor loves sake only. Do not say,

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day--

A guest for queens to social pageantries,

Serenely in the sunshine as before,

The angels would press on us, and aspire

The chrism is on thine head--on mine the dew--

Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue

The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree?

Thou mayst love on, through loves eternity.

God for myself, He hears that name of thine,

Without the sense of that which I forbore--

Be here contented? Think! In mounting higher,

A shadow acrossread.99csw.com me. Straightway I was ware,

And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,

Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;

Of individual life I shall command

Unlike our uses and our destinies.

The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand

Who each one in a gracious hand appears

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,

On one another, as they strike athwart

Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine

And isolate pure spirits, and permit

九_九_藏_書For these things in themselves, Beloved, may

Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought

UNLIKE are we, unlike, O princely Heart!

I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung

Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

And what I dream include thee, as the wine

Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay

To drop some golden orb of perfect song

At either curving point,--what bitter wrong

Those of my own life, who by turns had flung

WHEN our two souls stand up erect and strong,

IF thou must love me, let it be for naught

With looking from t九_九_藏_書he lattice-lights at me--

Be changed, or change for thee--and love, so wrought,

The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years--

Contrarious moods of men recoil away

I love her for her smile--her look--her way

And sees within my eyes the tears of two.

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

And Death must dig the level where these agree.

Until the lengthening wings break into fire

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!

Of the sweet years, the dear and wishd-for years,

Thine own dear pitys wiping my cheeks dry:

Rather on earth, Belo九*九*藏*書ved--where the unfit

With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.

Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part

To bear a gift for mortals old or young:

So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move

GO from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand

With gages from a hundred brighter eyes

The silver answer rang--Not Death, but Love.

Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore

I saw in gradual vision through my tears

Guess now who holds thee?--Death, I said. But there

Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land