Poems (Taylor)/Love's Humilities
LOVE'S HUMILITIES
To think of thee, to think of thee!O privilege too pure for me!—Though I could part the sacred veilWithin my soul; and show thee pale Against a golden light,With long hands folded on thy breast,Like some Madonna, drawn to rest Upthrough a jasper night.
To dream of thee, to dream of thee!O sweetness far too sweet for me!—To seek thy bosom like a dove,To cling about thy feet like love, What earthly dream shall dare?Let mine but hear the cushat callThrough roseries thy faint foot-fall Hath silenced, like a prayer.
To think of thee, to dream of thee!O ecstasy too rare for me!—Nay! Thou art but a colour throughAll fantasies I ever knew, Love, Love—Or wilt thou beAn odour of hid lilies inAll dells of reverie I win?— O Sweet, suffice it thee!