THE MEETING
To meet almost as strangers, who have been
Such lovers in the past! no glad delight
To thrill our senses, till the wrong seems right,
For very joy—I wonder will your mien
Be happy? it seems years since I have seen
You smiling! I shall take you to the light,
And trace new lines upon your brow, and right
Above them may be some gray hairs, your clean
Strong profile, will it look the very same?
Are your hands wrinkled? Oh! my perfect hands!
Be not less lovely now that passion stands
Aloof, and dare not kiss you into flame—
I could not bear it! Time can never blight
Such marvels, so divinely slim and white.