University of Virginia Library


172

XXXIV.
THY TREASURE

The dewy lips of woman are not given
In any embrace of earth: so say you, friend?
They tarry for the pure desires of heaven,
For kisses soft and stainless, without end,—
For holy thoughts of love with no base leaven
Of this earth intermixed; for lovers pure
As angels whose embraces shall endure:—
Have maidens ever after such arms striven?
So say you? To this maiden then I say:
“I died, and died for ever, on the day
When thou didst grant thy sweet red mouth to him:—
To miss the sweet gift of thine earthly treasure
Is sorrow to me passing earthly measure,—
Yea, pain that fills my cup to the very rim!”
1876.