 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
SONNET XLII. LOVE'S MAGNETISM.
O Love! though far apart our bodies be,
I think my soul must somehow touch thine heart,
And make thee, in the dusk of slumber start,
To feel my strong love beat and surge round thee,
O one sweet island of my soul's waste sea!
Serene and fair, and passionless thou art;
Why should my sorrow of thy life make part,
Or shade the face burnt in my memory?
I think my soul must somehow touch thine heart,
And make thee, in the dusk of slumber start,
To feel my strong love beat and surge round thee,
O one sweet island of my soul's waste sea!
Serene and fair, and passionless thou art;
Why should my sorrow of thy life make part,
Or shade the face burnt in my memory?
And when I dreaming pace the tawny sand,
If thou wert on the opposite fair strand,
And my heart should with love to thy heart yearn,
I do believe thou couldst not choose but turn
And look across the sea, my way, until,
Not knowing why, my soul should burn and thrill.
If thou wert on the opposite fair strand,
And my heart should with love to thy heart yearn,
I do believe thou couldst not choose but turn
And look across the sea, my way, until,
Not knowing why, my soul should burn and thrill.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |