Nay, nay, that love I, which I find possess’d.”
“Pray, how much can you find possess’d?” she ask’d.
“Enough to love,” I said.
“What holds enough
For that?” she laugh’d.
“Enough,” I answer’d her,—
“To make his presence here a boon to me;
To make his wishes a behest for me;
To make me feel an instinct seeking him,
And, finding him, a consciousness of all.”