I love you, Sweetheart! better far than all;
And still will love, with love that makes or mars,
When round my head eternal curtains fall,
And sleep shall close the eyelids of the stars:
Though all the houris of celestial bars
Should lure me on with eyes of liquid light,
Joined to the wondrous music of guitars,
Without you there, my blood were cold and white!
Beyond that phase of something some call death
I want to love you always, just as now—
To feel my cheek fanned by your clover breath,
And feel your hand press sometimes on my brow:
I would not turn one instant from the plough,
But follow on from starry fence to fence,
And question not the whither, whence, or how,
With you as earnest of God’s providence!
And when at last my evening glooms and greys,
And when, at last, my last sun westward dips,
And I go out upon dim, unknown ways
Where men are borne on heavenly spirit-ships,
I’ll watch and wait their oft-returning trips,
Hoping for you to step upon the quay,
That I may clasp you heart to heart with me,
And kiss you ... thus ... upon your rose-red lips!