Were hung for me, and our united souls
Shone over treasure books—how glad you were
To listen to my epic, from the scrolls
Of Jerusalem, the holy sepulcher.
Still as a shaft of light you sat and heard
With veilèd eyes which tears could scarcely blur,
But flowed upon your cheek with every word.
And your hand reached for mine—you did not speak,
But let your silence tell how you were stirred
By love for me and wonder! What to seek