Pure Heaven

Oh, l will hold pure heaven on my chest

When you have spoke my poetry to me.

When you have uttered utterings of mine,

And on your mouth l see life’s wonder-sign—

The ever-quiver tremble of lit love,

That vibrates quiet to the stars above—

Then, oh then, oh then—then on my chest!

Yea, I will hold you there! My prize—-Best!

For rhyme in time will come to say my say,

Most masterly come striding down the way,

Like giant now, benevolent in bliss,

With cheeks accepting of a giant kiss.

When you have all my poetry confessed

I’ll hold the purest heaven on my chest.

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