And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
The love I bear thee, finding words enough,
And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,
Between our faces,to cast the light on each?--
I droop at their feet. I cannot teach
My other hand to hold my spirit so far off
From myself--me--that I should bring thee proof
in words,
of love hidden in me out of reach.
Nay let the silence of my woman-love to thy belief--
Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed,
And rend the garment of my life, in brief,
By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude,
Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.