A still renewable fear . . . O love, O troth . . .

Pardon, oh, pardon, that my soul should make,

With their rains), and behold my souls true face,

Nor Gods infliction, nor deaths neighborhood,

His guardian sea-god to commemorate,

A finger even. And, though I have grown serene

Nor all which makes me tired of all, self-viewed,--

Thy purity of likeness and distort

Nothing repels thee, . . . Dearest, teach me so

In the new Heavens,--because nor sin nor woe,

Than九_九_藏_書 that first kiss. The second passed in height

I have been proud and said, My love, my own.

To last, a love set pendulous between

The fingers of this hand wherewith I write;

To pour out gratitude, as thou dost, good !

And ever since, it grew more clean and white,

Because thou hast the faith and love to see,

I could not wear here, plainer to my sight,

The dim and weary witness of lifes race,--

The third upon my lips was folded down

This mutual kiss drop down between us both

When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst

And vibrant tail, within the temple-gate.

With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.

Their doubt and dread, and blindly to forsake

Have forced my swimming brain to undergo

That was the chrism of love, which loves own crown,

As an unowned thing, once the lips being cold.

Formed of the sand, and fit to shift and break.

Slow to world-greetings, quick with its Oh, list,

Nor all which others viewing, turn to go,

Through that same souls distracting lethargy,

Thy worthiest love to a worthless counterfeit:

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed

And strong since then, I think that God has willed

Distrusting every light that seemed to gild九九藏書

Because thou hast the power and ownst the grace

It is that distant years which did not take

Must lose one joy, by his lifes star foretold.

When we met first and loved, I did not build

Lest these enclasped hands should never hold,

The first, and sought the forehead, and half missed,

Sorrow and sorrow ? Nay, I rather thrilled,

To look through and behind this mask of me

Upon the event with marble. Could it mean

Thy sovrantread.99csw.comy, recoiling with a blow,

(Against which years have beat thus blanchingly

The patient angel waiting for a place

In perfect, purple state; since when, indeed,

As if a shipwrecked Pagan, safe in port,

For thine and thee, an image only so

The onward path, and feared to overlean

Should set a sculptured porpoise, gills a-snort

Of all that strong divineness which I know

Half falling on the hair. O beyond meed !

And Love, be false ! if he, to keep one oath,