If every day I sent a poem to your heart, its lovely home,

There to stay and never roam,

And if my lips were wet with dew

Just because of loving you,

I think I might seal closed mine eyes

So they weren’t burnt by Paradise

In looking on your face so fair,

And my ears, too, would quiv’ring be

From hearing your delivery—

So charged with your true inner light

That they’d be winged and fly all night!

And yet, your hand on me when close embraced

Is more than every dream l’ve chased.

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