Dear heart and love! what happiness is it
To watch the firelight’s varying shade and shine
On thy young face; and through those eyes of thine—
As through clear windows—to behold them flit,
In sumptuous chambers of thy mind’s chaste wit,
Thy soul’s fair fancies! then to take in mine
Thy hand, whose pressure brims my heart’s divine
Hushed rapture as with music exquisite!
When I remember how thy look and touch
Sway, like the moon, my blood with ecstasy,
I dare not think to what fierce heaven might lead
Thy soft embrace; or in thy kiss how much
Sweet hell,—beyond all help of me,—might be,
Where I were lost, where I were lost indeed!