VIII. SONG
I
Will God at last give me this one sweet thing,—
That thy young lips should touch the lips that sing?
II
That thy young heart should wake a song in me
More glad than morning's to the dark cold sea?
III
If thou canst love me, let thy love abide
Unchanged for ever. Be my light and guide!
IV
But give no love that thou wilt take away.
Turn not the sea's whole blue to waste wild grey!
V
O love of loves, my very singing dies
Before the strange sweet light that fills thine eyes.
VI
Let me—what tenderer sweeter thing could be?—
Die at the hands and at the lips of thee!
