The breath, the touch, the warmth of Beauty flown.




XXIV

LOVE'S GIFT


I'm far from thee, yet oft our spirits meet:
We share the longings of each other's breast,
And all our joys and sorrows are confest
As though our lips did love's fond tale repeat.
Ah! then thine eyes send forth, mine eyes to greet,
Glances in which thy whole soul is exprest,
Then, like some song-bird flutt'ring in its nest,
I hear thy heart in pulsing cadence beat.

I know its music and I know its thought;
My heart to it th' unuttered words supplies;
I listen to the thrilling melody
Until my soul its subtle tone hath caught.
And then I take it as Love's gift,--it lies
Imprisoned in my own weak poesy!




EPILOGUE