 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
68
POETRY.
I love it, but I cannot find a voice,
I cannot bead my thoughts upon the strings
Of that soft lyre wherewith the Goddess sings,
I cannot sorrow rightly, nor rejoice
Aright—her garment over me she flings;
I cannot bead my thoughts upon the strings
Of that soft lyre wherewith the Goddess sings,
I cannot sorrow rightly, nor rejoice
Aright—her garment over me she flings;
I love Love, but I cannot reach her hair,
Though lips of mine are burning with desire
With kisses to enkindle in a fire
What I, caressing once, once found so fair—
No striving of the spirit brings me nigher.
Though lips of mine are burning with desire
With kisses to enkindle in a fire
What I, caressing once, once found so fair—
No striving of the spirit brings me nigher.
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