Now that the tears of love have reached Their flood-time in my throat, What thoughts I launch for your sweet sake, What dreams I set afloat; How when I've caught you fast asleep, I'll sit awake and trace The curved and round perfections in Your head, your neck and face. If there is such a passion now, With so much strength to move, What shall we do if you inflame With jealousy that love: That jealousy, whose eyes can see More than the deaf and dumb, And hears far more than one that's blind -- What then shall we become! |