But the golden glory that lit the place
Was not alone from the sunset’s grace—
For I saw in your fair, uplifted face
A light that was wondrously tender.
I say I saw it. And yet to-day
I ask myself, in a cynical way,
Was it only a part you had learned to play,
To see me act the lover?
And I curse myself for a fool. And yet
I would willingly die without one regret
Could I bring back the day whose sun has set—
And you—and live it over.
RIVER AND SEA
We stood by the river that swept
In its glory and grandeur away;
But never a pulse o’ me leapt,
And you wondered at me that day.
We stood by the lake as it lay
With its dimpled face turned to the light;
Was it strange I had nothing to say
To so fair and enchanting a sight?
I look on your tresses of gold—
You are fair and a thing to be loved—
Do you think I am heartless and cold
That I look and am wholly unmoved?
One answer, dear friend, I will make
To the questions your eyes ask of me:
“Talk not of the river or lake
To those who have looked on the sea”
WHAT HAPPENS?
When thy hand touches mine, through all the mesh
Of intricate and interlacèd veins
Shoot swift delights that border on keen pains:
Flesh thrills to thrilling flesh.