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.