SONNET XII.
KNOWN TOO WELL.
Lo! now how well I know the thing thou art;
Not more the color of thine hair and eyes
I know, than all thy various tones and sighs;
The laugh half-song, half-moan, that comes to part
The low clear voice, as placid as the heart,
Which, being stainless, needeth no disguise,—
Serene and pure as moonlit seas and skies
Wherethrough no thunders roll, no lightnings dart.
The music of thy voice by heart I have;
Yea, every tone, and semi-tone, I know;
The sound of taken breath, divinely sweet,
The touch of fingers, and the fall of feet;
I know thee better than the wind the wave,
The sun the heavens, or the Alps the snow.
