Why should I not talk thus? Go bid the flowers
Keep back their perfume; then, perchance, may souls,
All sweet with blooming love, keep back sweet words.
I love him.—Shrink not, sister. Hear you must.—
And say not I am weak. Should I not grow
Far weaker, holding in a love so strong?
II.
For years he lived there in my father’s house,
My elder brother and my lover too,
My helper, and my hero: all my youth