So 21 - Say ain, a once ain

        XXI

        Say ain, a once ain,

        t t love me. ted

        S treat it,

        Remember, o the hill or plain,

        Valley and    rain

        es ted.

        Beloved, I, amid ted

        By a doubtful spirit-voice, in t doubts pain

        Cry, Speak once more&mdas! ho    fear

        too many stars, though ea heaven shall roll,

        too many flohe year?

        Say t love me, love me, love me&mdasoll

        terance!—only minding, Dear,

        to love me also in silence hy soul.

        So 22 - and up ered strong

        XXII

        and up ered strong,

        Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

        Until to fire

        At eit,&mdas bitter wrong

        to us, t we s long

        Be eing higher,

        the angels would press on us and aspire

        to drop some golden orb of perfect song

        Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay

        Rat

        trarious moods of men recoil away

        And isolate pure spirits, a

        A place to stand and love in for a day,

        it.

        So 23 - Is it indeed so? If I lay rong>

        XXIII

        Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead,

        ouldst thou miss any life in losing mine?

        And hee more coldly shine

        Because of grave-damps falling round my head?

        I marvelled, my Beloved, when I read

        t so in tter. I am thine—

        But . . . so muco thy wine

        remble ? tead

        Of dreams of death, resumes lifes lower range.

        the on me!

        As brig t it strange,

        For love, to give up acres and degree,

        I yield thy sake, and exge

        My near s view of hee!

        So 24 - Let trong>

        XXIV

        Let the worlds sharpness, like a clasping knife,

        S in upon itself and do no harm

        In t and warm,

        A us rife

        After tting. Life to life—

        I lean upon t alarm,

        And feel as safe as guarded by a charm

        Against tab of worldlings, who if rife

        Are o injure. Very ill

        the lilies of our lives may reassure

        ts, accessible

        Aloo    drop not fewer,

        Gr of mans reache hill.

        God only, who made us rich,    make us poor.

        So 25 - A , Beloved, rong>

        XXV

        A , Beloved, have I borne

        From year to year until I sahy face,

        And sorroer sorroook the place

        Of all tural joys as lightly worn

        As tringed pearls, eaced in its turn

        By a beating    at daime. hopes apace

        ere co long despairs, till Gods own grace

        Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn

        My . t bid me bring

        A drop ado

        Deep being! Fast it sihing

        s oure dotate,

        , mediating

        Bet tars and te.
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