I sat and laughed and shouted also.
Yet was I not content.
My seared and restless eyes, turning here and there,—
Like my tired soul,—
Seeking new joys and finding them not,—
How oft swept you unseeing.
Until, suddenly,—
And now I know not how I could have missed it,—
My eyes saw into yours,
And plumbed the deep wells of newly born desire.