She, To Him IV
This love puts all humanity from me; I can but maledict her, pray her dead, For giving love and getting love of thee - Feeding a heart that else mine own had fed! How much I love I know not, life not known, Save as some unit I would add love by; But this I know, my being is but thine own Fused from its separateness by ecstasy. And thus I grasp thy amplitudes, of her Ungrasped, though helped by nigh-regarding eyes; Canst thou then hate me as an envier Who see unrecked what I so dearly prize? Believe me, Lost One, Love is lovelier The more it shapes its moan in selfish-wise. 1866.
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"This love puts all humanity from me;..."
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