I only ask the love that mortal knows.
If heaven be heaven to steal away the soul
Of all my rapturous hours, then give me life—
Its fog and dew, its sunlight and its shade,
Its day and night—but ever let me fold
Thee to my heart, to keep from thee all strife,
Whatever woe, whatever ill betide.
“. . . . For one might deem you fair
And take away what I had known as mine,