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 XXI. 
SONNET XXI PURSUIT AND CAPTURE
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23

SONNET XXI
PURSUIT AND CAPTURE

Is there a sweeter thing than when one feels
The breast of Love brought closely to one's own,
So that each sigh or softly-murmured moan
Is caught and changed to laughter's silver peals?
Yea, this is sweeter—that the world conceals
No love for ever, though she flee away
Through woods and endless forests fierce and grey;
Beware! the avenging Love is at thine heels.
In some sequestered glade of that wild wood
The pale pursuer is upon thee, sweet;
Love's angered advent thou shalt not elude,—
Turn rather, soft-eyed, that approach to meet!
He treadeth after thee with footstep rude,
And pauseth not for poisonous swamps, or heat.
1874.