Could I…

Could I take song from off my lips
And press it full on thine,
Yet keep, inside my fingertips,
Your silent breath divine;

Could I write words, in brightest ink,
That you might, loving, see,
And sit by you and, smiling, think
How lit you are by me;

Could I knock-knock upon your door
And watch it swing wide in,
Then I at last would be not poor,
For singing could begin!

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