Say over again, and yet once over again,

    t t love me. ted

    S treat it,

    Remember, never to the hill or plain,

    Valley and  rain

    Comes ted.

    Beloved, I, amid ted

    By a doubtful spirit-voice, in t doubts pain

    Cry,  Speak once more--t !  ho can fear

    too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll,

    too many flohe year ?

    Say t love me, love me, love me--toll

    terance !--only minding, Dear,

    to love me also in silence hy soul.

    and up erect and strong,

    Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

    Until to fire

    At eit,--ter wrong

    Can to us, t we s long

    Be ented ? ting 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

    Contrarious moods of men recoil away

    And isolate pure spirits, and permit

    A place to stand and love in for a day,

    it.

    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 count it strange,

    For love, to give up acres and degree,

    I yield thy sake, and exchange

    My near s view of hee !

    Let the worlds sharpness, like a clasping knife,

    S in upon itself and do no harm

    In t and warm,

    And let 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

    Alone to  drop not fewer,

    Groraig of mans reache hill.

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

    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 dance-time. hopes apace

    ere co long despairs, till Gods own grace

    Could scarcely lift above the world forlorn

    My . t bid me bring

    And let it drop ado

    Deep being ! Fast it sinkething

    s oure dotate,

    , mediating

    Bet tars and te.