When I have fears that I may cease to be,
Before my pen has gleaned my teening brain,
Before high-piled books,in charactery come to existence
Before my words steam from them pages opening ...
Heart to heart!
And the stillness of night and the moonlight, like hushed breathing
Silently, stealthily moving across thy hair!
O womanly face!
Tender and strong and lucent with infinite feeling,
Shrinking with startled joy, like wind-struck water,
And yet so frank, so unashamed of love!
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