His gain by day, his ecstasy by night,--
His force, his folly, fierce or faint delight,--
Suffering or sorrow, fortune, feud, or care,--
Whate'er he find or feel,--he may not share.

Lonely we join the world, and we depart
Even as lonely, having lived alone,
The breast that feeds us, the beloved one's heart,
The lips we kiss,--or curse--alike unknown.
Ay, even these lips of thine, so often kissed,
What certitude have I that they exist?
Alas, it is the truth, though harsh it seems,
I have been loved as sweetly in my dreams.

Therefore if I should seem too fiercely fond,
Too swift to love, too eager to attain,
Forgive the fervour that would forge beyond
The limits set to mortal joy and pain.
Knowing the soul's unmeasured loneliness,
My passion must be mingled with distress,
As I, despairing, struggle to draw near
What is as unattainable as dear.

Thirst may be quenched at any kindly river,
Rest may be found 'neath any arching tree.
No sleep allures, no draughts of love deliver
My spirit from its aching need of thee.
Thy sweet assentiveness to my demands,
All the caressive touches of thy hands,--
These soft cool hands, with fingers tipped with fire,--