Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/393

Rh He could not sleep for pastime? Nay, I swear By life and love, that, if I lived like some, And loved like. . some. . ay, loved you, Romney Leigh, As some love (eyes that have wept so much, see clear), I’ve room for no more children in my arms; My kisses are all melted on one mouth; I would not push my darling to a stool To dandle babies. Here’s a hand, shall keep For ever clean without a marriage-ring, To tend my boy, until he cease to need One steadying finger of it, and desert (Not miss) his mother’s lap, to sit with men. And when I miss him (not he me) I’ll come And say, ‘Now give me some of Romney’s work, To help your outcast orphans of the world, And comfort grief with grief.’ For you, meantime, Most noble Romney, wed a noble wife, And open on each other your great souls,— I need not farther bless you. If I dared But strain and touch her in her upper sphere, And say, ‘Come down to Romney—pay my debt! I should be joyful with the stream of joy Sent through me. But the moon is in my face. . I dare not,—though I guess the name he loves; I’m learned with my studies of old days, Remembering how he crushed his under-lip When some one came and spoke, or did not come. Aurora, I could touch her with my hand, And fly, because I dare not.’ She was gone.